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nightrise

Praise for the everafter series

ForeWord Reviews 2009 Book of the Year Awards

Finalist for Horror

everafter

“Stark and Tam have managed to scare the bejesus out of me in

their highly skilled effort to introduce Valentine and Alexa, two

professional students, who are thrust into the forbidden realm

of Vampires and Weres. …the writing is superb, the characters

believable, the plot strong…I have to give these authors kudos.”

— Kissed By Venus

nevermore

“You will not be able to put this book down once you start. I found

it well written and totally interesting and I recommend it to any

of you who are interested in the shifter concept.”—Amos Lassen,

Literary Pride

What reviewers say about Nell Stark’s fiction

“In this character driven story, the author gives us two very likeable

and idealistic women that are without pretense. The growth these

two experience from their involvement in an important cause,

as well as the friendships that they make throughout the year, is

moving and refreshing. Kudos to the author on a very fine book.”

— Curve Magazine

“Running with the Wind is a fast-paced read. Stark’s characters are

richly drawn and interesting. The dialog can be lively and wry and

elicited several laughs from this reader. …the discussions of the

nature of sex, love, power, and sexuality are insightful and represent

a welcome voice from the view of late-20-something characters

today. The love scenes between Corrie and Quinn are erotically

charged and sweet.”— Midwest Book Review

Visit us at www.boldstrokesbooks.com

By Nell Stark and Trinity Tam

everafter

nevermore

nightrise

By Nell Stark

Running With the Wind

Homecoming

nightrise

by

Nell Stark and Trinity Tam

2011

nightrise

© 2011 By Nell Stark aNd triNity tam. all rightS reServed.

iSBN 13: 978-1-60282-535-2

This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By

Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.

P.o. Box 249

VallEy Falls, ny 12185

FirsT EdiTion: augusT 2011

This is a Work oF FicTion. naMEs, characTErs, PlacEs, and

incidEnTs arE ThE ProducT oF ThE auThor’s iMaginaTion or

arE usEd FicTiTiously. any rEsEMBlancE To acTual PErsons,

liVing or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishMEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs

is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.

This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, May noT BE rEProducEd in any

ForM WiThouT PErMission.

CreditS

EdiTor: cindy crEsaP

ProducTion dEsign: susan raMundo

coVEr dEsign By shEri (graPhicarTisT2020@hoTMail.coM)

Acknowledgments

We are first and foremost grateful to Cindy Cresap, who has helped

us to weave together the many threads of Val and Alexa’s story.

We are likewise indebted to Radclyffe for sowing the seed of this

idea years ago, for her invaluable feedback on this narrative, and for

giving us the opportunity to publish with Bold Strokes Books. We’d

like to thank all of the wonderful, hardworking, and selfless people

at BSB—Connie, Lori, Lee, Sandy, Paula, Sheri, and others—for

helping to put out and market quality product year after year. The

members of Team BSB, including our many fellow authors, continue

to inspire us and we count you all in our extended family.

Finally, our thanks goes out to each reader who picks up one of our

books. This series is, above all, for you, and we hope you enjoy it.

Dedication

For the friends who helped us find our way back

to each other, once upon a time.

alexa

• 11 •

• 12 •

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Chapter ONe

I woke to the sound of sirens. Shrill and persistent, they

reverberated in my ears and echoed my panicked thoughts.

Gone.

Valentine was gone.

The urge to shift came on strong, and I curled into a ball around

my twisted blankets. As the sounds of alarm gradually lengthened

and faded, my heartbeat began to slow. I unclenched my fists and

rolled onto my back to stare at the spider web of cracks in our

ceiling. My ceiling. Gone.

And yet she wasn’t. I hadn’t seen Val in almost two months,

but only because of a concerted effort on my part to avoid her. The

gossip mill of the wereshifter/vampire Consortium was churning

with news of her. Despite my self-imposed isolation, bits and pieces

reached me, the flotsam and jetsam that survived each bend and drop

of the river. Valentine Darrow had opened a highly exclusive club

right underneath the mayor’s nose, near Gracie Mansion. Valentine

Darrow had signed a lease on a penthouse apartment in Soho that

had its own pool. Valentine Darrow was having an affair with Helen

Lambros. Valentine Darrow was the woman to see if you were a

vampire wanting to secure your financial future in these times of

political upheaval.

I hadn’t had the strength to investigate any rumor except the

last, and I’d been shocked to find it true. Only a week after our

separation, apparently, Valentine had dropped out of medical school

• 13 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

to take over the management of the smallest and least glamorous of

her family’s banks. It had been known as Darrow Savings and Loan,

a small-time operation that catered mostly to those of the older

generation who lived on the porous border of Hell’s Kitchen and

Midtown. Now, it was called the Bank of Mithras—a reference to

the governing body of vampires, of which Val, as the sole survivor

of the clan of the Missionary, was a member. Within days of her

taking over, the bank had received several substantial deposits. And

just like that, the trend had been set. With the Order’s endorsement,

Val would be making money hand over fist. Maybe the rumor about

the pool was true, too.

I turned onto my side for a few moments before finally

swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Late afternoon sunlight

filtered through the nearest window to warm my feet as they rested

on the floor. I scrubbed my hands over my face and tried to gather

myself. I’d slept away the middle part of the day for the third time

this week. It was a concession to my feline half, who loved to doze

in the warmth of the midday sun. I felt lazy for sleeping while most

people had to work, and while the majority of my cohorts studied

for the next day of class, but it also felt good to indulge my inner

panther. Especially since she was all I had left.

My mouth felt dry, but I bypassed the bathroom in favor of

the kitchen sink. I didn’t want to interact with a mirror right now,

when I could feel the pillow crease on my cheek and the snarls in

my hair. I had curled up on my bed immediately after coming home

from class, without eating anything for lunch. Or breakfast. Half-

heartedly, I put a piece of bread in the toaster and washed the few

dishes I’d used last night. A wine glass. A bowl, still partially filled

with rice. One pot.

You’re not eating enough, babe. I heard the words, the familiar

intonations, as clearly as though Valentine were actually behind

me, and I wrapped my arms around my middle as the spike of pain

in my heart tried to flay me open. Early on in our relationship,

Valentine had proclaimed herself my own personal chef. She had

experimented tirelessly with my mother’s recipes until she had

perfected my favorite childhood dishes. And she had always refused

• 14 •

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to let me skip meals, even when I’d barricaded myself in the library

to study for finals.

“Even your ghost is a worrywart, Valentine,” I whispered,

forcing myself not to turn around. My mind was just playing tricks

on me again, as it had so often during these past weeks. Karma had

suggested I relocate, and she’d even offered me the second bedroom

in her apartment. But I couldn’t make myself leave. I couldn’t give

up this place, not when Val’s essence seemed to permeate the very

walls. And so I let the memories and sensations of Valentine as

she had been—my loyal and loving champion—cascade over and

through me despite the pain. She was my soul mate. Or at least, she

had been. I wasn’t even sure that I believed in the concept of soul

mates until Valentine’s departure ripped open such a chasm inside

me, I didn’t ever think I’d be whole again. Maybe her soul truly was

haunting me now—now that she was a full vampire.

When she had gotten sick in the late autumn, I hadn’t been

surprised; each semester always brought with it a new cadre of

germs. But instead of shaking off the bug, she’d grown rapidly

worse. Val was always a terrible patient, and she’d refused any

medical attention. I shouldn’t have trusted her judgment. Only when

she lapsed into incoherent rambling, her skin fiery to the touch, did I

contact the Consortium medical staff. While I waited for their house

call, I’d forced a thermometer between her lips and discovered that

her fever was pushing 104 degrees.

An echo of remembered terror sliced through me, and I leaned

against the kitchen counter, toast forgotten. Harold Clavier himself,

the chief Consortium physician, had shown up on our doorstep with a

stretcher. As his assistants had worked to secure Val, I’d bombarded

him with questions, only to be interrupted.

“You truly do not understand what is happening?” he’d asked

in a tone both incredulous and disdainful. “Valentine is on the cusp

of her transition. She will be a full vampire within the week.”

I should have known, or at least suspected. Val had been

increasingly withdrawn in the months leading up to her illness,

but I’d attributed her behavior to the stress of her second year of

medical school piled on top of the anxiety she was suffering as blood

• 15 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

prime—the last surviving member of the clan of the Missionary.

Balthasar Brenner, a powerful werewolf alpha bent on overthrowing

the Consortium itself, had a price on her head. She had every right

to be preoccupied.

What I hadn’t known then was that Valentine had stopped

drinking exclusively from me. The first time hadn’t been her fault;

while I was in Africa over the summer, she had been given a blood

transfusion against her will. As far as I knew, that transfusion marked

the beginning of her downward spiral. Until that point, the vampire

parasite that lived in her bloodstream had recognized my blood as a

substitute for Val’s red cells. But as soon as she’d been exposed to

the blood of others, mine stopped having special properties. Once

she had emerged from the brief coma that marked her transition to

full vampire status, I’d learned that Val had been drinking from other

people for months—usually around the time of the full moon, when

I made trips into the countryside to allow my panther the freedom to

run under the open sky.

Valentine had betrayed me. That’s what it felt like. But then

again, I was the one who had left New York for the summer, and my

absence had been one of the contributing factors that led to her need

for a transfusion. Hadn’t I betrayed her, in a way?

I shook my head and reached for the piece of toast. It was cool

by now. After spreading some jam onto the bread, I took a bite. My

stomach churned, but I forced myself to chew and swallow. And

then again. I couldn’t afford to become weak. Retaining control

over my panther demanded concentration and inner fortitude, both

of which were in short supply at the moment.

Sometimes, the hardest cross to bear was the knowledge that

Valentine still wanted me. She had woken thirsty from her coma,

and I’d been there to sustain her. But her mouth had not been gentle

on my skin, and her need had not been laced with tender passion.

I’d had to struggle not to shift, and the experience of feeding her had

left me nauseated instead of satisfied. And then I’d learned about the

others from our mutual friend Karma.

A fellow shifter, Karma had been instrumental in helping me to

become a Were so I could sustain Valentine forever. When we spoke

• 16 •

nightrise

shortly after Val’s transition, Karma admitted to having heard gossip

about an increase in Val’s appetite, but at the time, she had dismissed

the hearsay as rumormongering. I wasn’t angry with Karma—in this

case, pinning down blame was a useless exercise—but I couldn’t

help wanting to shake Val until her sharp teeth rattled for hiding the

evidence of her deterioration.

Valentine hadn’t been apologetic in the slightest. “You’ve

known the strength of my thirst from the beginning,” she had said,

lips twisting into an incredulous frown when I confronted her.

“And it’s grown exponentially. You can’t honestly expect me to be

monogamous now. That’s completely unreasonable.”

Despite my sorrow, I had been firm. “Those are my conditions.

Me and no one else, or this is over.”

She had paused, her eyes growing hazy. For a moment, she’d

almost reminded me of her former self—soft and open, vulnerable

in her desire. “You do taste so damn good. Exquisite, like a bouquet

on my tongue. So much better than any—”

And then she’d cut herself off. Her gaze had measured me,

both the length of my body and the strength of the steel behind my

words. My skin had crawled under her callous appraisal.

“Fine.” The word had pierced that silent moment, shattering

my hope. She had turned and walked away then. Out of the door and

out of my life. I hadn’t seen her since. But her declaration had been

tinged with petulance, and I knew she wasn’t pleased. I knew she

still wanted me. Craved me, even.

The knowledge was a comfort colder than my toast. When I

realized that I was just staring at the half-eaten piece of bread, I

threw it into the trash. Why, why did I have to keep reliving those

final moments? Why were my emotions just as raw today as they

had been then? Why couldn’t I find shelter in reason and reach even

the smallest modicum of acceptance?

The phone rang and I answered it quickly, glad of the distraction.

It was Karma calling to check up on me. “We’re going out tonight,”

she said without preamble.

I sighed. “Why do we have this conversation every week?” I

wandered out into the living room and sank onto the couch, trying

• 17 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

not to think about how many times Val had made love to me there,

when she couldn’t wait the few seconds it would take to reach our

bed. “I’ve told you before: I can’t go out. Not yet. I can’t see her.”

“Tonight is different. It’s shifters-only at Luna, so you can be

sure you won’t run into her.”

I had just opened my mouth to take a different tack when the

doorbell rang. “You’re not going to turn me away now, are you?”

Karma sounded rather smug.

For a moment, I thought of doing just that. But as quickly as

it had come, the flash of anger at her intrusiveness receded. Despite

months of my reticence and solitary confinement, Karma hadn’t given

up on me. She called every day, coaxing and pleading and cajoling me

into conversation. Now she had decided it was time for the next step.

“All right. You win.” An unfamiliar smile tugged at my lips as

I rose to buzz her in. Brushing some crumbs from my shirtfront, I

prepared myself for the gentle chiding I would undoubtedly receive.

“Thank you for humoring me,” she said as she stepped inside.

The scent of jasmine attended her light embrace, and as I inhaled

deeply, I felt my stomach settle.

“Thank you for being persistent.” I hung up her coat and ges-

tured for her to join me on the futon. Dressed in brown slacks and a

shimmering gold top that matched the flecks of color in her dark eyes,

she looked out of place in my shabby apartment. “Something to drink?”

She remained standing. “I’m fine. Let’s find you something to

wear.”

While she went through my closet, I perched on the bed,

wishing I could just lie back and let myself fall asleep again. But

Karma remained singularly focused on her mission. When she

extracted a pair of crimson leather pants and tossed them to me,

tears suddenly threatened.

“I was wearing these when I first met Val,” I said quietly.

She was at my side in a second. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t

know. Let me put them back.”

“No, it’s okay.” I slid my fingertips over the supple leather and

tried to muster a brave face. “Not only are these totally hot, they’re

also really quite comfortable.”

• 18 •

nightrise

“See how they feel,” Karma said, flashing me an encouraging

smile.

Suddenly determined, I kicked off my sweats. I was beautiful.

I was intelligent. I was strong—stronger even than the grief that had

taken root in my heart. And I was going out tonight.

❖

My bravado sputtered out as soon as the taxi pulled away from

the curb. Ever intuitive, Karma reached for my hand. For several

long, silent minutes, I drew strength from her closeness, but as soon

as I could trust my voice again, I pulled away.

“So tell me what you’re working on right now.” I needed a

distraction, and Karma’s anecdotes were always good; as a curator

for the Egyptian Art exhibit at the Met, she routinely handled items

that had survived for millennia, and I enjoyed hearing her stories

about both the artifacts in her charge and the history behind them.

“Last week, we got a shipment of artifacts recently excavated

from the Nile delta. Some truly remarkable finds.”

Her enthusiasm made me smile. “Oh? Will a few join the

permanent collection?”

“Absolutely.” She reached for her purse as the cab neared

Luna, the most upscale and exclusive of the clubs that catered to

New York’s wereshifter and vampire populations. “We’re still in the

process of cataloguing, but once we’re finished, I might be able to

get you an invitation to a private viewing. If you like.”

“I’d love to. You wouldn’t get into some kind of trouble,

though, would you?”

“Only if you stole something.” Karma directed the driver to

pull over.

“Let me—” But she had handed over the fare before I could

protest.

I had no doubt that Karma was perfectly well off financially, but

it didn’t seem likely that she was as wealthy as I was now. Shortly

after Valentine had gotten sick, Constantine had set up a trust fund

in my name and refused to hear a word of protest. His sympathy for

• 19 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

me, combined with the close call we’d had with Brenner in August,

had motivated Constantine to make some provisions in the event

of his own death. “You are the closest thing I have to a daughter,”

he had told me. And he’d also claimed that after a hundred years of

investments and interests, the sum he was gifting me was a small

fraction of his total wealth.

Sometimes I still felt guilty for accepting his generosity, and

I was being very cautious about my own investments. But the

security was liberating. Not having to be anxious about how I would

repay my student loans or support myself if I couldn’t find work as

a lawyer freed me to focus on other things. Like my place in the

hierarchy of wereshifters, and in the now-endangered Consortium.

Like Brenner’s plans and movements.

Like Valentine, and whether there was any way in heaven or

hell to reverse what had happened to her.

The bouncers recognized us and waved us past the line of

people outside the door. Despite Karma’s reassurance that there

would be no vampires in attendance tonight, I was hyper vigilant. I

scanned the dance floor as Karma led me past the staircase that rose

sinuously out of the middle of the room, but all I saw were shifters.

My panther uncoiled into alertness as she sensed the presence of so

many other beasts lying in wait.

We stopped at a table near the bar, around which three other

women were already perched on chrome stools. My footsteps

lagged as I realized I’d be forced to socialize with strangers, and I

shot a quick glare at Karma. Was she trying to set me up? But if she

noticed my consternation, she gave no sign, and within moments I

was exchanging air-kisses with three of her curator colleagues from

museums around the city. It was logical, I supposed, for Weres to

be drawn to a profession so richly steeped in history, and I found

myself genuinely interested in the news they shared about their

work. All questions about myself, I redirected with the caginess I

was learning in my Trial Advocacy course.

After an hour passed with no sign of a single vampire, I began

to relax a little. Our second round of drinks was hand-delivered

by Sebastian Brenner himself, the owner of Luna and one of the

• 20 •

nightrise

most prominent players in the younger generation of shifters. As

the estranged son of Balthasar, he had come under recent suspicion.

Unlike his father, however, Sebastian embraced his humanity and

worked to merge his business and personal interests with those

of the mortals who surrounded us. He had proven a valuable ally

in the struggle to foil his father’s most recent attempt to destroy

the Consortium; in fact, I owed him my life. But now I regarded

him warily—not because I was afraid of him, but because he had

nurtured an attraction to Valentine for a while. He might have seen

her recently.

“Hello, Alexa.”

When he handed me my drink, I clutched at it for purchase and

fought the urge to take a long sip. I didn’t want to betray weakness

in his presence. “Sebastian. How are you?”

He gestured toward the crowded dance floor. “Business is

fine, as you can see. You’d almost think the world had gone back

to normal.”

I gazed out over the expanse of writhing bodies. “Some of them

probably think it has.”

His mouth twisted. “Then they’re idiots.” He was about to say

something more when a commotion broke out near the front of the

club—a shout, the sound of scuffling, a slamming door. Sebastian’s

eyes narrowed. One of his bouncers, a heavyset man in a dark blue

shirt and gray slacks, hurried across the floor toward us.

Sebastian touched my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He met

the bouncer halfway and they conferred, dark heads close together.

Sebastian gesticulated sharply, and his employee took half a step

backward as though he’d been struck, nodding all the while.

“What is it?” Karma asked.

“I don’t know.” The man loped back toward the door and

Sebastian returned to our table, waving off our concerns before we

could voice them.

“Just a group of rowdy vampires, wanting to get in. Apparently,

it’s someone’s coming out party.”

My pulse spiked at “vampire,” and I had to work at keeping

the panic from my expression. There were a lot of vampires in New

• 21 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

York City. What were the odds that Val had come here, tonight,

when Luna was off-limits?

“What exactly is a coming out party in this context?” I asked,

my head filled with competing visions of GLBT Pride and debutante

balls.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “It’s an idiotic tradition created by

the human hangers-on. They believe being turned is cause for a

bacchanal.”

Millions of humans were fascinated by vampires, of course, but

only a select few knew of their existence. Usually, they were chosen

for their obedience and pliancy. All of them, to my knowledge,

hoped one day to be turned. Many died before they ever got the

chance, but it was a risk they were willing to take. To someone like

Valentine, who had been turned against her will, this tradition must

be disgusting. Then again, maybe she felt differently now.

I shook my head, willing the thoughts of her to disperse. There

was still some kind of disturbance at the door, and more heads were

beginning to turn. I didn’t understand the partyers’ motivations, and

I resented their intrusion now. One look at Sebastian’s grim face was

proof he shared my feelings.

A different bouncer sought him out, and again he left us. This

time, I could hear bits of their conversation. When the man told

Sebastian that there were too many in the crowd outside to turn

away without risking some kind of incident, Sebastian’s jaw muscles

flexed ominously.

“Fine. Let them in. But I want them gone as soon as possible.

Find reasons, and boot them one by one so they don’t have critical

mass.”

The bouncer was just starting back across the room, when a

hush fell over those gathered near the door. And then I heard her

voice. It rose in a descant over the heavy industrial throb of the DJ’s

beat, and I knew I was in hell.

“Sebastian!” She emerged into my field of view a moment later,

and my throat went dry. Dressed in white slacks and a matching

tank, her bright gold hair set in jagged spikes, Valentine was a

• 22 •

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living flame. Slender as a whip and as painful, she crossed to where

Sebastian stood and kissed him on the mouth.

“Call off your watchdogs. We only want a drink.”

Judas. That was all I could think. And her kiss had worked;

Sebastian’s irritation melted away. He even reached out with one

hand to cup Val’s waist in a possessive gesture that forced bile into

my throat. She didn’t lean into the caress, but she didn’t pull away

either. My panther snarled awake, pushing behind my eyes in search

of the danger that had flooded my blood with adrenaline.

I could feel Karma’s hand on my knee, but the rest of me was

numb. Frozen. I couldn’t look away. Sebastian had taken Val’s

arm and was trying to turn her around. I wondered whether he

was worried about what would happen if she saw me. The thought

pierced through my numbness, a strange sort of comfort.

Val resisted his pull and sidestepped out of his grasp. And then

she went very still as her gaze met mine. How had she known to

look? Was it possible that our connection had survived even the

death of her soul?

“Alexa.” She spoke my name like a prayer, and a jolt went

through me, raising the fine hairs on my arms and prickling the

skin at the back of my neck. In that moment, I despaired at her

ability to still affect me so strongly. For almost two months, I had

forced myself to stay out of her path, to concentrate on my studies.

Moving on—that’s what I’d called it. But I had only been running

in place.

She walked slowly toward me, as one might toward a frightened

animal. And I was afraid—afraid of the hold she still had on me, and

angry that I was granting her such power. Distantly, I felt Karma

squeeze my leg, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Valentine. Thirst

and desire battled for dominance on her face, and the taut muscles of

her arms betrayed her tension. She wanted me. Wanted to drink me,

wanted to fuck me. Those desires weren’t new, and it had been my

pleasure to indulge her in them, but always because they had been

accompanied by her all-consuming love.

That love was absent now. No softness lit her eyes, no tenderness

inflected her movements. She was Thirst incarnate.

• 23 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

The revelation broke my paralysis, and I surged to my feet.

Surprise flickered across Val’s face, and she paused. We stared

at each other, separated only by a few footsteps. Separated by a

bottomless chasm.

She cocked her head and looked me up and down. The clinical

once-over made me nauseated.

“You look good.”

I almost laughed in her face. My Valentine would never have

said that. I was far too thin, and I’d had to liberally apply makeup

so as not to look like a walking corpse. My Valentine would have

been dizzy with worry. My Valentine would have wrapped her arms

around me in a loving embrace instead of stalking me like a hunter.

My Valentine would have dragged me home—not to gorge herself

on my blood, but to cook me a meal and cajole me into eating every

bite. My Valentine was dead.

“Stop.” The word was steady. Pride filtered through the haze of

my pain. “I don’t want to hear it.”

It was hard to angle my body away from hers, and even harder

to walk away. We were connected still, and every step I took seemed

to stretch the frail, invisible cord that held me to her. The stretching

was pain. By the time I reached the door, my panther was frantic

with the need to confront the threat that was causing me such

distress. I jostled one of the bouncers in my urgency to get outside

and he snarled.

The crisp air knifed down my lungs, bringing with it the jumbled

scents of a crowd. I had emerged into the gathering of vampires

who were trying to gain access to Luna. Keeping my head down,

I shouldered my way through them, desperate to reach open space.

“Alexa? Is that you?”

Kyle Jordan was one of the Consortium’s human servants who

had been raised knowing the secret of vampires and Weres. He was

a loyal source of blood to Helen herself. Or rather, he had been. He

had been turned recently, his human scent shot through with the

wintry chill I’d learned to associate with vampires. And beneath it

all, an echo of Valentine’s distinctive fragrance.

• 24 •

nightrise

The pieces coalesced. Blinded by the hot rush of tears, I

stumbled. When he grasped my arm to steady me, I shook him off

so violently that he fell to the ground. Kyle smelled like Valentine

because she had fed him her blood to turn him. This was his coming

out party.

“Alexa!”

Her voice again. The anger pierced me like a knife between

the shoulder blades, making it impossible to breathe. My panther

clawed her way forward, demanding I shift to face my attacker. I

was strong enough to hold her back, but I didn’t want to. I wanted

nothing more than to lose myself in the elegant simplicity of her

animal brain.

With the last of my strength, I spun to face Val. She was

standing at the top of the stairs, incandescent against the dark façade

of the club. I wanted to slap her inscrutable face. I wanted to kiss her

beautiful mouth. I wanted to fall at her feet and beg her to dig down

deeper than the parasite that ruled her blood—to find some small

scrap of her former self, and return to me.

I kept my fists clenched at my sides. “Stay away from me,

Valentine.”

As I spoke the words, I let the panther take me. Through my

transformation, I kept my eyes on Val, despite the hoarse shouts

and panicked cries of the crowd. My ears flickered at the cocking

of multiple guns, but I refused to be cowed. A low snarl rumbled

deep in my throat as I bared my teeth at the shell of the woman I

had loved.

And then I leapt away into the shadows.

• 25 •

• 26 •

nightrise

Chapter twO

The sun was just barely visible over the East River as I

approached Constantine’s brownstone. His townhouse was

spacious by New York City standards, but it paled in comparison to

his former kingdom—the hidden Were city of Telassar, nestled deep

in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Constantine was living in exile,

having been driven out of Telassar by Balthasar Brenner just a few

months ago. My jaw clenched at the memory of Brenner, standing

outside the walls of the city at the front of his army and demanding

Constantine’s surrender. The Consortium’s forces in Africa had

initiated a counter siege last month, but so far their efforts had been

ineffective.

As I drew closer, I saw Karma sitting on the steps. She held out

a Starbucks cup when I approached her, and I caught the aroma of

coffee. Pain flared deep in my chest as I remembered how Valentine

had plied me with chai lattes every morning for two weeks while

trying to convince me to accompany her on a date. In the first few

days after our breakup, the mere scent of chai tea had been a painful

reminder of our courtship, and I’d made the decision to return to

drinking coffee.

“I am so sorry,” Karma said as I took the cup.

Late last night, after finally transforming back to my human

self, I had wanted to blame her. But in the intervening hours, as

reason began to gain sway, my anger had cooled. “It’s not your fault.

You were just trying to help. I have terrible luck.” I took a tentative

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sip and found comfort in the bold flavor that slid over my tongue

and down my throat. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.” She smoothed her gloved hands over her

slacks in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. “Any casualties?”

A swell of affection rose in me as I realized that even if I

answered in the affirmative, she would have my back. “Not unless

you feel a strong affinity to subway rats.”

She laughed, clearly relieved. “Were they big ones?”

“The size of housecats.” I slid in next to her, shivering as the

cold stone of the step seeped through my jeans. “The transit authority

should compensate me for getting rid of several.”

We sat in silence for a while as the city began to wake up around

us. Across the street, a woman in a fuzzy pink bathrobe was letting

her dog out to do its morning business. A few doors away, a man in

an expensive suit hurried down his front steps and turned toward the

nearest subway. Normal people going through their normal routines,

but the rhythm of the world still felt alien to me without Valentine at

my side. Would I ever adjust?

“I didn’t know about Sebastian.” Karma rested her palm on my

knee as she spoke. “Whatever it is that he’s doing with…her…I’m

out of the loop.”

I closed my eyes against the echo of last night’s rage at

witnessing Sebastian’s hands on Valentine. Their kiss. The only

saving grace was the memory of her body language—rigid and aloof

in response to his possessiveness. Whatever was going on between

them, Sebastian had far more of a vested interest in it than she did.

She still wanted me, not him. I could cling to that fact until I was

strong enough to let her go.

“I’m sorry you’re getting caught in the crossfire.”

Karma stood and offered me her hand. “If I hear anything

relevant, do you want to know?”

I weighed my options. I could remain willfully ignorant of

Valentine’s actions and lie awake at night imagining every scenario

under the sun. Or I could take whatever scraps Karma discovered

and lie awake at night mourning the loss of my soul mate. Every day,

I told myself that her actions were no longer any of my business, but

• 28 •

nightrise

that was always a lie. Valentine was mine. We had promised each

other forever in a way most lovers couldn’t.

“I want to know anything. Everything.” My gaze never left

Karma’s as I accepted her outstretched hand. “You’ll think I’m

crazy, but I haven’t given up yet on getting her back.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I wouldn’t give up either.” She

squeezed my fingers then gestured toward the door. “It’s time. After

you.”

A few seconds after ringing the bell, we were buzzed in. One of

Malcolm’s guards stood sentry just inside the door, and I nodded to

him as we made our way down the foyer. The hallway opened onto

a bright and spacious room populated only sparsely with furniture:

a large oak dining table, a matching desk under one of the windows,

an armchair near another. Brightly colored shag rugs covered much

of the hardwood floor. Contentment radiated from my panther, who

loved the airy feel of Constantine’s home and felt comforted by her

sire’s proximity.

While most humans would have hung a large television on

one of the walls and arranged couches to face it, Constantine’s only

wall decorations were landscape paintings, and his guests usually

lounged on the floor around a low coffee table. He and Malcolm were

already seated, and after peeling off our coats, Karma and I joined

them. Soon, the business of the day would begin, and Malcolm and

Constantine would join their vampire colleagues at Consortium

headquarters. But for now, our select group could discuss shifter

politics and strategy without fear of betrayal or interference.

“Good morning,” I said, trying to gauge the mood in the room.

Neither of them were particularly expressive men, and I couldn’t tell

whether they were displeased with something or just preoccupied.

Constantine turned his laptop screen toward me. “Explain this.”

His browser was open to someone’s Twitter feed. I didn’t

recognize the username, but he or she had last tweeted at two o’clock

in the morning. Just saw a HUGE BLACK CAT run down stairs of

51st street station, read the update. A fucking panther in Manhattan, riding the fucking 6 train!

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Torn between apprehension and amusement, I shrugged. “No

one will believe it.”

“That is not the point.” Malcolm’s tone reminded me of my

father’s when I had misbehaved as a young child. “Your control

must be better than this. Our situation is far too precarious to risk

any kind of exposure.”

He dared to accuse me of not knowing the stakes? I wanted to

lash out, and my panther snarled as my temper rose. But I held my

tongue, and her, in check.

“It’s my fault,” Karma said.

“It’s not.” I met Malcolm’s gaze. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I know the past few months have been emotional ones,”

Constantine said, “and we’re all under even more stress than

usual—”

As much as I appreciated his sympathy, I wanted to stop talking

about last night. Every moment spent reliving it made my chest

constrict and my head throb. I held up a hand to forestall him. “Like

I said, it won’t happen again. Let’s move on to the important topics.”

Malcolm wasted no time. “The siege of Telassar remains

in stalemate. If, as we suspect, traitors in our army are covertly

supplying the city, we have yet to determine who the culprits are or

how they make their arrangements.”

Constantine muttered a string of expletives in French as he

ran his fingers through the several inches of curly black hair that

crowned his normally-shaven head. He had vowed not to cut a

single lock until Telassar had been restored to his command. Now

it was my turn to feel sympathy for him; I could only imagine his

frustration at remaining in New York while others commanded the

forces meant to reinstate him to power.

“More and more fools are flocking to Brenner’s banner every

day.” Malcolm’s disgust was palpable. “Karma, you have news on

the latest domestic attacks?”

Karma was ready with her smartphone. “Five casualties in a

Los Angeles suburb on Friday. Four in Boston on Sunday. And ten

in a small town in South Dakota yesterday. All claimed by Weres

who profess allegiance to Brenner.”

• 30 •

nightrise

“South Dakota?” These seemingly random acts of terrorism

had been cropping up for the past two months, but they had been

confined to major metropolitan areas until now.

Karma nodded. “That one was ugly. Six of the ten were

humans.”

Over the summer, Brenner had released a deadly virus into the

shifter community of New York. He had promised the vaccine to

any Were who brought him the head of a vampire. Valentine had

discovered a cure, and the Consortium had synthesized and distributed

it widely. But her breakthrough had only been a momentary setback

for Brenner, who launched a campaign of terrorism reinforced by

aggressive propagandizing. The peace between Weres and vampires

had always been fragile, and as more and more shifters bought into

Brenner’s rhetoric, the Consortium itself was beginning to fray.

Attacks against vampires were at least a weekly occurrence now,

and often humans found themselves in the crossfire.

“Three attacks since last week, in addition to the eight thwarted

by my team,” Constantine mused. “They’re escalating.” As the

chief of tactical operations of the task force charged with countering

Brenner’s plans, Constantine and his operatives across the country

worked to gather intelligence on and neutralize shifter attacks. He

turned to me. “What news from the Web?”

I had volunteered to monitor Brenner’s public communications,

which freed up Malcolm’s most trusted people at the Consortium

to work on the encrypted messages that passed between Brenner

and his lieutenants. “He’s continuing to send daily messages across

a range of media to his followers. The blog is getting nearly ten

thousand hits a day.”

Constantine’s lip curled. “That fucking blog.”

I watched beads of sweat form along his hairline and had to

mentally wrestle with my panther as she sensed her sire’s distress.

Brenner’s blog was a particularly sore spot. Full of vitriol and

propaganda against Malcolm, Constantine, and other high-profile

Weres who persisted in allying with vampires, the blog purported to

be a record of “injustices” that were being perpetrated by vampires

against Weres. It continued to motivate shifters around the world

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to abandon the Consortium’s founding principles and turn on the

vampires.

“We have a new priority,” Malcolm announced, snapping me

out of my thoughts. “As you know, my analysts routinely track

Brenner’s known associates, especially those who have remained

stateside. Over the past few days, we have noticed hundreds of

millions of dollars being funneled through corporate shells into the

accounts of several of these individuals.”

Karma looked as alarmed as I felt, but from Constantine’s grim

expression, it was evident that Malcolm had already shared this news

with him. My stomach soured as I contemplated the possibilities.

“Do you have any idea what he’s planning?”

“No, but I can think of all too many options.” Malcolm stood

and began to pace. “He could be amassing an army, or building a

bomb. Or he may intend to work in more subtle ways.”

“Balthasar, subtle?” Constantine’s laugh was bitter. “Never. He

is going to attack. The only questions are where and when.” He

glanced at his watch. “And we are not going to learn the answers by

sitting around this table.”

Karma rose at the clear dismissal. “I’ll have my ear to the

ground at Luna, as always,” she said.

The reminder that she often worked with Sebastian made my

panther push for control. Whenever I’d asked what exactly Karma

did at Luna, she became evasive. My best guess was that she was

under someone’s orders to stay close to Sebastian, but given his deep

ambivalence toward his father, I couldn’t figure out why. He had

always struck me as a fairly stereotypical young businessman. Flush

with financial success, he cultivated his playboy image surrounded

by the social elite and the trappings of luxury.

And now Valentine was part of his coterie.

I stood quickly as the memory of their kiss seared my mind’s

eye. The panther thrashed again at my flare of emotion, and when

Constantine rested one hand on my shoulder, I knew he had noticed

my struggle. While many shifters had criticized my arrangement

with Valentine, Constantine empathized with my decision to become

a Were to help a loved one. He’d made a similar choice long ago,

• 32 •

nightrise

for a brother who had been beyond saving. But as much as I wanted

to accept his comfort, my pain was still too raw. I wasn’t about to

betray any weakness in front of Malcolm.

I took a deep, steadying breath before turning to Karma. “Share

another cab with me?”

Constantine saw us all out, and I instinctively turned toward

the sun as we emerged onto his stoop. The day’s brightness cheered

me, despite the chill of the air. Down the street, a construction crew

was just beginning its day’s work, and the loud beeps of a reversing

truck pierced through the city’s background noise.

I registered a sharp change in air pressure at the same moment

that a tree fell in the distance with a loud crack. But even as the

thought crossed my mind, I knew I was wrong. Adrenaline

galvanized my heart as the scent of blood filled the air and I whirled

to find Malcolm lying on the stone steps, bleeding profusely. Shot.

Sniped. A red haze descended over my eyes as my panther struggled

furiously to claw her way out, and I dropped to a crouch as I fought

for control. I’d never be able to help him if I shifted.

“Inside!” Constantine shouted. Blood slicked my hands

as I grasped Malcolm’s shoulders and pulled him back through

the doorway. Karma was on my heels, already on the phone to

Headquarters. Malcolm’s guard, who had been one step behind him,

was covered in blood spatter and cursing.

Constantine fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around

Malcolm’s chest, elevating his head so he wouldn’t choke. Bright,

viscous blood poured from a hole above his left temple, and I could

see the white, jagged edges where the bullet had pierced his skull

bone. I darted into the bathroom and yanked a towel off its peg, then

crouched at Malcolm’s side to staunch the bleeding as best I could.

“Why isn’t he shifting?” I heard myself ask, feeling oddly

disengaged, as though I was watching the flurry of activity from

above.

“Maybe he can’t.” Constantine’s words were clipped.

Mind racing, I reached for Malcolm’s wrist to track his vital

signs. No one really knew what part of the brain regulated a Were’s

ability to transform, but if that part had been injured or destroyed,

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it might explain why he remained broken and bleeding in human

form.His pulse stuttered beneath my fingertips, and I looked to

Constantine in alarm. “We’re losing him.”

At that moment, Karma’s cell buzzed. “They’re coming in

through the alley,” she reported a moment later, and I left Malcolm’s

side to unlock Constantine’s back door. The medical staff personnel

rushed by me without acknowledgement and had strapped Malcolm

to a folding gurney within seconds.

“I’m riding with him,” Karma said fiercely, though I knew

neither of us would protest. As Malcolm’s strong right hand, it was

her prerogative.

I squeezed her shoulder as she brushed past. “Let me know

what I can do.”

A hush settled over the house after they left, and I found myself

staring at the ribbons and pools of blood that had collected on

Constantine’s polished hardwood floor. He, too, remained pensive

for a long moment before tearing off his bloodied shirt.

“This is madness. Total war. Balthasar is risking our entire

community by bringing his battle to the human streets.” He kicked

off his shoes. “I need to speak with Helen immediately.”

Feeling suddenly lost, I moved to wrap my arms around my

body only to realize that they, too, were caked in blood. “How can

I help?”

He was already halfway up the staircase. “There’s nothing you

can do right now, Alexa. Go home. Pray.”

“I’m not really the praying type,” I said, feeling utterly helpless.

But if Constantine heard me, he didn’t answer.

❖

I showered in his guest bedroom and borrowed an oversized

sweatshirt and pants for the trip home. But when I entered my

apartment, its stillness and silence felt oppressive. For the

hundredth time since exiting the subway, I checked my phone.

Still no word.

• 34 •

nightrise

Fatigue lurked behind my eyes, but I was far too agitated to

give in to it. Finally, I decided to attend my afternoon class. It would

kill some time while taking my mind off the nightmare I’d just

witnessed. Afterward, I would pay a visit to Malcolm and see if

there was anything I could do to ease Karma’s burden.

As I walked along the south side of Washington Square Park,

my phone rang. Eagerly, I looked down at the display…and froze.

Olivia Wentworth Lloyd. Olivia was an assistant district attorney,

and one of Valentine’s childhood friends. Sort of. She and I had

met during an NYU career fair last year, but we’d continued to

cross paths when she had been attacked by the same vampire who

had turned Valentine. While the Missionary had not succeeded in

making Olivia a vampire, he had made her suspicious. The last I’d

heard, Olivia had fallen for Abigail Lonnquist, a wereshifter who

had contracted the same disease that had nearly killed me. Valentine

hadn’t told Abby’s secret, but she had given Olivia a vial containing

one dose of the cure for the virus.

Valentine had believed it wouldn’t be long before Olivia

discovered the full truth about Abby. Was that why she was calling

me now? I hadn’t heard from or seen her in months.

“Hi, Olivia,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Alexa.” She paused so long I thought we might have gotten

disconnected, but when I checked my phone’s display, the call was

still live.

“So…what’s up? It’s been a while.”

I heard her exhale slowly. “Alexa, I know what you are.”

Alarm bells clanged wildly in my brain, and my panther woke

snarling from her uneasy slumber. “What I am?” I managed to keep

my tone light despite the pounding in my chest. “Doomed to be

unemployed once I finish school, you mean?”

“Meet me for a drink on Friday night.”

“Is that a request or a demand, Counselor?”

There was another long moment of silence, then, and I used

it to get my breathing back under control. My panther thrashed

behind the doors of my psyche, desperate to confront the unknown

threat.

• 35 •

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“I don’t work at the DA’s office anymore,” Olivia finally said.

“White Star, ten o’clock?”

Now my alarm was compounded by confusion. Olivia had quit

her job? I wanted to ask, but it was clear she didn’t want to discuss

that right now. The real question was whether her invitation was

legitimate. My brain suspected some kind of setup, but in my gut, I

knew Olivia wouldn’t knowingly put me in danger—from the law

or anyone else.

“Alexa?”

“Sorry, yes. That’s fine. See you at ten on Friday.”

When she hung up, I turned away from Vanderbilt Hall and

crossed the street. I needed to calm my panther before sitting in

class for hours. Even on a blustery winter’s day, the spaciousness of

the park comforted her.

I sat on a bench and thought about reviewing my notes from

yesterday’s lecture, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

Brenner was planning some kind of attack on American soil and

had just critically injured—perhaps even killed—the Weremaster

of New York. Olivia seemed to have discovered the Consortium’s

secret. And the love of my life—now a soulless vampire—was

somehow involved with Sebastian.

I turned to face the wind rattling the bare branches of the trees

and pretended the chill was responsible for the tears that pricked my

eyes.

• 36 •

nightrise

Chapter three

The rest of the week crawled by. Malcolm remained

unresponsive and in critical condition despite several

different surgeries and an effort to relieve the pressure on his

brain. He was locked in a coma, and neither his human nor leonine

consciousness had been able to find its way back. It was rare for a

shifter not to heal quickly, and most of the city’s Were population

was poised to give up hope already. Karma was understandably

rattled, but once it became clear that our sitting by Malcolm’s

bedside would do no one any good, she threw herself back into both

of her jobs. By the time Friday arrived, I wanted simply to hole up

in my apartment and sleep the weekend away. But breaking my non-

date with Olivia wasn’t an option; I had to find out what she knew.

White Star only had four tables, but Olivia had managed to

grab one near the back of the narrow, dimly-lit space. I paused at the

bar to order a drink, wanting another minute to collect my thoughts

and my composure. And to ensure that this wasn’t some kind of

sting operation, with her detectives lying in wait to apprehend me

and charge me with…what? Turning into a large cat on a monthly

basis? The thought might have been amusing under different

circumstances.

When the bartender looked my way, I ordered two fingers of

a very fine tequila. White Star was a sipping bar, and if Valentine

had been here with me, we would have delighted in the scotches

and whiskeys. The delicate absinthe fountain had always enchanted

• 37 •

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her too, and I could picture her expression of avid concentration as

she watched each drop of ice water seduce the cube of sugar into

dissolution.

“Here you are.” The bartender slid my drink in front of me and

as we exchanged bills, I pressed the heel of my free hand against the

dip between my breasts. No more daydreams. No more memories.

My Valentine’s sensual enjoyment of even the smallest of life’s

details had been replaced by a ruthless appetite that could never be

satiated. Resolute, I gripped my glass and threaded my way around

tables and patrons to the far corner, alert to anything out of place or

suspicious.

As I slid onto the chair across from Olivia, I hoped I wasn’t

betraying my trepidation. But I could feel my smile falter when she

regarded me in silence, her expression accusatory. As though I were

a suspect at the interrogation table and not her friend.

“Hi,” I said, determined not to let her rile me up. “How are

you? It’s been too long.”

“How do I look?”

At the bitterness of her words, I leaned in to survey her

appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot and the skin beneath darkly

smudged. She looked haunted.

“As though you haven’t slept in a week.”

She cupped one hand around her highball glass, as though she

were protecting it from me. “I need you to tell me something. To be

completely honest.” When I nodded, she took a deep breath. “I need

to know what you…what you turn into.”

I thought about laughing. I thought about lying. I thought about

playing dumb. But somehow, Olivia had discovered the secret, and

no amount of dissembling on my part would throw her off the scent

now. Beneath the tablecloth, I surreptitiously eased my cell phone

out of my pocket, intending to send Karma a heads up by text in case

the rest of our evening went south and I ended up needing some kind

of intervention.

“A panther.”

Olivia’s expression never changed, but her fingers were

trembling when she raised her glass to her lips. I balled my free hand

• 38 •

nightrise

into a fist as my panther, sensing Olivia’s threat to us both, made

a bid for control. I projected what I hoped was a soothing image:

mid-afternoon on the savannah, basking atop a sun-baked rock as

the warm breeze riffled our fur. Silently, I urged her to relax into the

daydream—to trust that I wouldn’t allow Olivia to hurt us.

“A panther.” Olivia’s voice was hoarse, the words tinged with

incredulity.

“How did you know to ask that question?”

She broke eye contact. “You know I was dating Abby, right?”

Valentine had told me that particular bit of gossip during

the turmoil following Brenner’s attempted destruction of the

Consortium. “You were dating her?”

“She broke it off a few weeks ago.” Her mouth twisted into a

grimace of pain. “Said it wasn’t me, it was her. Of course. But she

seemed upset, and I wondered if someone was controlling her—

telling her to stay away from me. So I followed her.”

Comprehension dawned. “You saw her shift.”

“I tailed her car like some kind of lunatic. For hours.” Olivia’s

laugh sounded strangled. “She drove into the Poconos and parked at

one of those scenic outlooks.”

“And then she walked into the woods.” On impulse, I rested my

palm on top of Olivia’s hand. Her story was taking me back to my

own first sighting of a Were, when Helen’s bodyguard Darren had

transformed into a large gray wolf before my eyes. That moment

had called into question everything I thought I knew. For weeks, the

disbelief had felt like a mental splinter, working its way ever deeper

into my mind until my entire worldview had been transformed.

“Yes. She walked into the woods.” Olivia’s eyes were glassy as

she relived the memory. “I was trying to go unnoticed, and by the

time I realized something was wrong, I was too far away to help.

Those seizures…even from a distance, they looked so painful. Like

she was possessed.”

“In a way, she is.”

“Possessed. By a mountain lion. Or some kind of jaguar.

I wasn’t close enough to tell.” Olivia dug her fingernails into the

table. “Do you know, I obsessed about the exact species for days

• 39 •

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afterward. Even went to the store and bought a book on the big cats.

But I still don’t know what she is.”

Moved by the distress in her voice, I smoothed my hand

rhythmically over her knuckles. “There was nothing you could have

done to help her. And if you’d been any closer, she would have torn

you to pieces. After the change, the hunger is unbearable.”

“Is it always like that? Always so violent?”

“For most of us, yes.” I took another sip from my drink in

an effort to quiet my nerves at talking about these kinds of details

with Olivia, who was not only a human, but a trained and ruthless

prosecutor. But her angst was real, and she deserved answers. Who

would give them to her, if not me?

“For you?”

“In the beginning. But I’ve inherited a greater degree of control

over my beast than most, and by now, the pain is minimal.”

“Inherited? You were born this way?”

“No.”

“Then what happened to you?”

I looked from her to my glass and back again, trying to calm

the pounding of my heart and thinking through how much I should

say. As distressing as it was to be sitting across from an attorney

asking pointed questions about the wereshifter community, it also

felt liberating to tell the truth for once.

“I’m not going to answer that question until I know who’s

asking: Olivia, or the DA’s office?”

“I told you, I don’t work there anymore.”

I sat back and crossed my arms beneath my breasts, determined

not to say another word until she decided to be more forthcoming.

After staring me down for a full minute, she threw back the rest of

her drink and braced her palms on the table.

“Fine. Last month, I was asked to take a leave of absence.”

“Why?”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed and the small muscles along her jaw

flexed. Volatile and uncompromising, she reminded me in that

moment of Valentine. They looked nothing alike—Olivia’s hair

and eyes were dark and her clothing and mannerisms decidedly

• 40 •

nightrise

feminine—but she shared with Val an effortless confidence and

seething impatience. I wondered if those qualities had been bred

into them by the wealthy and powerful generations of which they

were now the scions.

“My superiors thought I was unhealthily preoccupied with an

unsolved case,” she said when I continued to hold my ground. “Your

turn.”

What happened to you? There were a dozen ways to answer that

question with some semblance of truth, but I found myself wanting

Olivia to know everything—for her own protection as much as for

my own peace of mind. She was an accomplished investigator, and

if she sensed that I was holding back, she would only continue to

search for answers. Answers that could get her hurt, or worse.

“When Valentine was turned into a vampire, I had myself delib-

erately infected with the lycanthropy virus so I could feed her forever.

So I could save her soul.” As her expression shifted from determination

to shock, I allowed myself a bitter smile. “It didn’t work.”

“Vampires…exist?”

“Is it really so hard to believe, after what you saw?”

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that Val is a vampire.” Her

voice was laced with bravado, but the last word trembled on the air.

“She was turned by the same man who attacked you.” When

Olivia paled, I reached for her hand again. “Don’t worry. You

haven’t been infected. You were lucky.”

In another moment, she had pulled back and was gripping the

sides of the table hard enough to whiten her knuckles. “Damn it,

Alexa. Start making some sense!”

My temper flared and the panther surged back into the fore

of my consciousness. She was always so close to the surface these

days, and my fatigue grew stronger as I reined her in yet again.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, and I wondered whether she had

guessed at the nature of my struggle. “I just…”

“It’s a lot to take in. I know.” I finished off my drink, hoping it

would help me relax. The walls of the bar seemed closer now, and

I fought off the sense of suffocation that tightened my chest. Not

my claustrophobia—the panther’s. She wanted to run, despite our

• 41 •

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spontaneous jag through Central Park last night. Or maybe because

of it. Was my control slowly crumbling? Could she sense it?

“So the man who attacked me is a vampire.” Olivia stuttered

on the last word.

“Was. He’s dead now.” I had feasted on his corpse without

regret, and still felt none.

“Dead?”

“Dead. I swear it.” Only then did I realize Olivia had been

living in fear of the Missionary all this time. Was he the “unsolved

case” she’d been benched for obsessing about? Or had Helen and

Malcolm found the influence to derail her career so she would

stop poking into their business? Had she been suffering the same

nightmares that had plagued Valentine’s sleep almost every night

until we finally had closure?

She folded her arms on the table and lowered her head to

rest against them. The thin wool of her sweater grew taut over her

shoulder blades, and I couldn’t help but compare her more delicate

physique to the tight, prominent muscles of Val’s shoulders and

back. I was debating whether or not to reach out to her when my

phone buzzed. Karma.

“Are you all right?” she said when I answered.

“Yes, fine.”

“I need you to come to the museum right now. There’s

something I have to show you.”

I glanced at Olivia; she hadn’t moved. She may have brought

this shellshock on herself, but I hated to leave her when she clearly

felt so vulnerable. “Can it wait?”

“I may have found a way to help Val.”

Her words knocked the breath from me. Even my panther

was shocked into stillness; poised for flight or battle, her presence

trembled on the edge of action. Hope rose from the ashes of my

despair to scorch the aching hollow in my chest. “I’ll be there as

soon as I can get uptown.”

Olivia raised her head as I hung up. “You have to go, obviously.

But let me buy you breakfast tomorrow. Please. There’s still so much

I need to know.”

• 42 •

nightrise

Her plea was slightly garbled to my ears, as though she were

speaking from behind a waterfall. I nodded dumbly, unable to

process anything but Karma’s declaration. Everything I had read

about full vampires indicated that the transition was irreversible—

that whatever part of Val’s essential self that had been lost was

beyond all recovery. Had Karma managed to discover some way to

reverse the vampire parasite’s hostile takeover of Val’s bloodstream?

And more importantly, to restore her soul?

“Alexa?”

“Breakfast. Tomorrow.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth.

“All right.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She wasn’t far off the mark, and I willed myself to focus even

as the panther paced the circumference of my psyche in agitation.

“Just some surprising news.”

Olivia started to reach for my hand, but apparently thought the

better of it. “I want you to know that I heard about you and Val. And

I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“She’s an idiot.”

I spun toward the door to hide my reaction. The woman in me

was in danger of betraying tears. The panther in me thrashed at the

insult to our mate. No matter what Valentine did or said, she would

always be rightfully ours. I had impressed that fact as deeply into

the psyche of my feline half as she was imprinted into my DNA.

“It’s not that simple.”

• 43 •

• 44 •

nightrise

Chapter FOur

Karma was waiting outside a nondescript door along the

south wall of the Met. I ran across the street, not to avoid

traffic but because the burst of activity felt good. As I approached,

she swiped her ID card and entered a code at the keypad.

“Hi.” I brushed past her and she followed me inside, pausing to

double-check that the door had locked.

“Hi.” Her eyes glittered in the dim light of the hall, and the

fine hairs on my arms rose as I realized just how close to the surface

her jackal was. I had never witnessed any kind of breakdown of

Karma’s control, and the sight was unnerving. My panther shoved

hard at the doors of my brain, and I braced one hand against the wall

to steady myself under her onslaught. We stood facing each other

for several fraught seconds until, with a shuddering sigh, Karma

lowered her head.

“What on earth was that?” I asked, hearing the breathlessness

in my own voice.

“I’m sorry.” Karma moved down the hall, gesturing for me to

follow. “I need to carve out some time to meditate. It’s been such a

crazy week, and I’m especially on edge tonight.” She used a key to

activate an elevator at the end of the corridor and we stepped inside.

“I know the feeling.” As the doors closed behind us, I leaned

against the far corner, wanting to give her as much space as possible.

“Are you worried about getting in trouble for bringing me up?”

• 45 •

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She waved the suggestion away. “That’s not it at all. I’ve been

on edge ever since Malcolm, and now…” She closed her eyes briefly

before refocusing on me. “Today’s discovery has implications.

Large ones, for many fields. And people.”

I tried to stay calm. Rational. “You found something in the

shipment you’re cataloging?”

“Yes.” She looked me up and down. “I’m glad you’re all right.

Olivia didn’t try to cart you off?”

“The DA’s office sidelined her.”

Karma’s expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder whether

Malcolm and Helen had anything to do with that.”

“Me, too. But they couldn’t shut her up before. What’s

changed?”

“Foster.”

Detective Devon Foster had died trying to apprehend the

vampire who had turned Valentine. Or so I’d thought at the time.

It had been a shock to discover Foster alive and well as a vampire

several months ago. And not just any vampire—the hand-picked

head of security for Helen’s new task force.

“You think they didn’t have someone in the NYPD before?”

That possibility seemed unlikely to me. The Consortium had

infiltrated most human institutions at least to some degree.

“I think they may not have had someone in the police force

who could stand up to Olivia’s connections.”

When the elevator doors slid open, my next question died on

my lips. We were in the most pristine warehouse facility I’d ever

seen. The room was organized by dividers into discrete cubes of

space, most of which were filled with an assortment of objects.

Karma led me down the main avenue that bisected the room, then

turned right.

“Here.” We entered a spacious enclosure that held a collection

of large rectangular stone sculptures. They ringed the space like

stoic sentries, and I paused in the doorway to take them all in.

“What are they?”

Karma stood by the leftmost stone and reached toward it,

checking her fingers only an inch from the surface. “Ancient Egyptian

• 46 •

nightrise

stelae. Boundary markers from the Nile delta.” She gestured toward

the human figure with a jackal’s head that dominated the bas relief.

“Anubis, god of the dead.”

I wondered if she felt some glimmer of affinity with the deity

who shared her beast. “Is that text above and below him?”

“In Hieratic, yes.” At my look of confusion, she added,

“Adapted hieroglyphs for faster writing. Egyptian cursive.”

I moved forward to inspect it. The dusky gold stone was shot

through with white highlights, and in some places, the sculptor had

used the gleaming veins to artistic effect. I wondered at how the

stelae must have looked in their natural habitat, rising up out of the

earth like the fingers of a god laying claim to the land. Breathtaking,

certainly. But Karma hadn’t led me here to show off impressive

artifacts.

“What do they say?”

“Combined, the inscriptions on these stelae create a narrative—

one that scholars have believed to be lost. Until today.”

“I don’t understand. How could it be lost if they knew about its

existence?”

Karma gestured in a broad arc encompassing all of the

markers. “The story is alluded to in many cultures, much like the

‘myth’ of werewolves and vampires.” She flashed me a wry smile.

“But until these stones were discovered, the actual text had never

been found.”

I squinted at the elaborate spirals and angles of the Egyptian

script, as though staring at it hard enough would unlock its secrets.

“And this story…it has something to do with Valentine?”

“I think so.” She retrieved two small folding chairs from the far

corner. “Let’s sit. This will take a while.”

My panther didn’t want to sit; she craved action. But before we

could hunt, we had to know our prey. I tried to soothe her with that

thought as I settled into the chair facing Karma. Anubis loomed over

us, equal parts vigilant and menacing, and I crossed my legs to keep

from fidgeting.

“Each major ancient civilization tells the story a different way,

but fundamentally—archetypally—it is the same.” As she spoke,

• 47 •

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Karma half-turned toward the stelae, as though they, too, were her

audience. “In ancient Egypt, it is told as the tale of Isis and Osiris.

Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know the details.”

“Isis was the sister-wife of Osiris, a popular and well-beloved

king. But Osiris’s brother, Set, grew jealous and plotted treason. He

had a coffin prepared to fit Osiris precisely and coerced his brother

into it under false pretenses. Set then sealed the coffin and threw it

into the Nile. Distraught, Isis searched until she found its resting

place beneath the roots of a massive tree. She returned it to Egypt

for a proper burial, but Set intercepted the coffin and dismembered

Osiris’s body into fourteen pieces. He scattered the pieces all over

the world.

“Isis spent years searching for the pieces of her husband.

Whenever she found part of his body, she wept for the space of

a day and night. Wherever her tears watered the earth, a beautiful

white flower sprang up under the light of the moon, only to wither

away at sunrise.” Karma leaned forward, holding my gaze. “The

legend suggests that the flower has exceptional healing abilities.

That consuming it can bring a person back even from death—or

perhaps the brink of death. That part of the text is corrupted, and I

can’t be sure of the exact meaning.”

My heart hammered into my throat at the implications. “What

are you saying? That this flower can cure Valentine? Restore her…

her soul?”

“I don’t know. But this is the best lead I’ve found. The only

lead, really.”

I battled back the hope that was threatening to override my

reason. “Even if the flower would work, and I could preserve it long

enough to get it to Valentine, how would we find it?”

The gold flecks that peppered Karma’s eyes grew brighter, and

again I sensed her jackal near the surface. “That’s where these stelae

come in. They describe thirteen of the resting places of Osiris.”

I surged to my feet, no longer able to contain the quivering of

my muscles. “The closest.” I forced the words through a dry throat.

“Where is it?”

• 48 •

nightrise

Karma shook her head. “These descriptions aren’t exactly

GPS coordinates. They’re more like riddles. Tomorrow, I’ll send

translations to colleagues around the world to see whether they can

identify the locations.”

Disappointment lanced through me. Despite the significance of

this discovery, there was still nothing I could do but wait and hope.

I looked past Karma to the half-ring of stelae, absurdly wishing

for some kind of Pentecostal miracle . It was agonizing to be in the

presence of the location without being able to interpret the text. But

I was so much closer than I had been mere hours ago. I had to stay

focused on the positive.

“All right. I understand. Will you send the translation to

Constantine, too? He might have some thoughts.”

“I will.” Karma squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll figure this out,

Alexa. I swear to you.”

She couldn’t make that promise, but I wanted to believe her.

The Consortium’s worldwide network would allow her to tap into

centuries of lived experience and wisdom. Someone, somewhere

would be able to help us connect these puzzle pieces. Even as my

rational brain protested that I was allowing emotion to overthrow

all logic, I was already planning my next steps. As soon as the first

location was discovered, I would travel there immediately and

study the plant. Once I had learned enough about its properties, I

would return to New York and reclaim my mate. It didn’t matter

that I couldn’t work out any of the details right now. I would make

it happen. I had to.

“Shall we go?” Karma turned toward the corridor, but I couldn’t

seem to pull myself away from the stelae.

“What ended up happening to Osiris? Was Isis able to give him

a proper burial?”

“Even better. She found thirteen of the fourteen pieces—

everything except, of course, his phallus. So she ordered one to be

made of gold, and then sang a song around his reconstituted body.

Her song was so powerful that it raised him from the dead.”

My breath caught at the picture Karma painted. The scene

unfolded before my mind’s eye: Isis pacing around her husband’s

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bier, distraught but focused on her mission; her long, dark hair moist

with the tears she’d wiped away; the rise and fall of her bare breasts

as she began to sing—softly at first, then louder and more confidently

until even death itself bowed to her will and Osiris raised his head.

I would be that for Valentine. Her Isis. I would search the

heights and depths of the world until I discovered the flower and

learned to harness its restorative powers. I would return love and joy

and compassion to the empty shell of her that prowled the nighttime

streets. I would be the one to lead her back into the sunlight.

Whatever it took. I had eternity, after all.

❖

We caught our first break several days later from one of

Karma’s colleagues in India. The news was also our first major

disappointment. Apparently, the fourth location alluded to in the

combined text of the stelae was a reference to Lohachara Island,

located in the Hooghly River between Bangladesh and India. Several

years ago, however, Lohachara had sunk into the river, displacing its

thousands of residents. Karma and I had debated whether the “Tear

of Isis” flower might still bloom beneath the water, but she had

convinced me to wait for more information about the other locations

before I went haring off on what was probably a fool’s errand.

The next morning, I sat across the table from Olivia in the

Starbucks on Washington Square, gingerly sipping at my scalding

coffee and debating whether to confide in her about the flower.

Sharing a breakfast table had become an impromptu tradition ever

since the morning after our rendezvous at White Star. On that first

day, she had peppered me with questions about wereshifters and

vampires, and I’d done my best to answer without giving away too

many secrets. I had even told her the truth behind my split with

Valentine. Gradually, we had settled into a companionable silence

broken only when one or the other of us had a story to share. I would

review my class notes and she would read the paper, and whenever

I stood to leave for class she would look up at me and ask, “Same

time tomorrow?”

• 50 •

nightrise

And I would say yes. I had no idea what I was doing, but it felt

nice. Normal, almost. Healthier, too. For the first time in months, I

was regularly eating breakfast. But when my phone buzzed to life

displaying Karma’s photograph, my appetite disappeared on a surge

of adrenaline.

“Any news?” I asked her.

“Yes, but it isn’t good.”

My stomach soured. “What happened?”

“A sociologist at Columbia identified the tenth location as the

slopes of Mount Noshaq, the highest peak in Afghanistan.”

I nearly surged to my feet. From the corners of my vision, I

caught Olivia staring at me curiously. “I’ll book a flight right now.

Do you know the nearest airport?”

“Alexa, stop.”

“And do you know the elevation? Mountainous terrain will be

treacherous this time of year. I should probably—”

“Stop.” The quiet vehemence of her monosyllable made me

pause.

“What?”

“Al Qaeda is still hiding out in those mountains. The whole

region is a minefield. Literally. You can’t go over there.”

I had to bite my lower lip to keep my temper in check. It was

a good thing we were having this conversation by phone. I wasn’t

sure I could have held my panther back if we’d been face-to-face.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not as though I’ll be helpless!”

“Think it through,” Karma said. “You’d probably be fine as

long as you were four-legged. But when you find the flower, you’ll

need to study it, then gather and transport it. Tasks for two legs.”

She had a point, damn it. My sigh came out sounding like a

snarl, and Olivia sat back hard in her chair, eyes wide. “What do you

want me to do, Karma?”

“I want you to wait. It’s been less than a week since I sent out

the translation, and we’ve already gotten two positive identifications.

More will come.”

I dug my fingernails into a stray napkin on the table and balled

it into my palm. My panther stalked behind my eyes, wanting to lash

• 51 •

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out, and I shared her desire to rip and shred and tear away everything

that stood in the path between us and the flower.

“I’ll wait. For now. But if we reach a dead end, I’m going.”

“That makes sense.” Karma’s voice was soothing, and I

suddenly realized just how demanding a friend I had been lately.

Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I tipped my head back to relax the

muscles of my neck.

“I’m sorry. You’re being a saint.”

“We’ll get a lead worth following. You’ll see.”

After promising to call me as soon as she heard any more news,

she ended the call and I turned to Olivia. “I suppose you want to

know what that was about.”

“For a few minutes there, it sounded like you were going on

some kind of hiking trip.”

“I was on the verge of buying a plane ticket to Afghanistan.”

“What?” Alarm flickered across her face. “Why the hell would

you travel there right now?”

“You’re not going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

I crossed my arms under my breasts to keep my hands from

fidgeting. My panther needed a hunt, and I needed to get out of my

own head for a while. “The abbreviated version is that my friend

Karma recently discovered an ancient Egyptian inscription about a

rare and short-lived flower known as the Tear of Isis. This flower, so

the story goes, can bring people back from death’s door. We think it

might be able to restore Valentine’s soul.”

To her credit, Olivia didn’t so much as blink. “And you can find

this flower in Afghanistan?”

“Apparently, yes. The inscription mentions thirteen possible

locations, one of which is there.”

“But you’re not going.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache.

“No. Karma convinced me to wait until we’ve deciphered some of

the other locations.”

“This Karma sounds wise. And persuasive. Is she a shifter?”

• 52 •

nightrise

“A jackal.” I watched Olivia’s reaction closely, but she didn’t

seem disgusted or afraid. Only surprised.

“That’s exotic.”

“Shall I set you up on a date?” I teased her.

She stood and pulled on her coat. “No. Not with her.” She

brushed her fingers lightly across the back of my neck as she headed

for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Her caress ignited a flash of heat low in my abdomen. Startled

by my own reaction, I made no reply. It was a relief to feel an

emotion that wasn’t sorrow or anger, but disconcerting to be stirred

by an unfamiliar touch.

• 53 •

• 54 •

nightrise

Chapter Five

Bracing myself over the small conference table in Karma’s

office, I squinted through her magnifying glass at an

ancient shard of pottery—the only remnant of a ceremonial urn.

Once jagged, its edges had been worn away by the clutches of the

soil. An image had been painted on its dusky rose surface, and I

leaned closer in an effort to make it out.

“Your colleague is sure this is the flower?” One of Karma’s

associates at the Met had pointed out this fragment as possibly

having a connection to the narrative on the stelae.

“As certain as he can be after a brief consultation.” Karma

stood across the room waiting for the printer to finish its latest job.

After gathering up several pages, she stapled them and set the pile

next to several others on the windowsill. “He caught me on his way

out the door to catch a plane overseas for a conference. He’ll do a

more thorough examination when he gets back next week.”

“And in the meantime, we have homework.” I crossed to

the window and surveyed the articles that her colleague had

recommended. They had all been written by the same person. “What

do you know about this Mariano Miralla?”

“Apparently, he spent most of his career researching the folklore

and customs of the people who inhabit the region where that clay

fragment was discovered. Maybe there will be a connection.”

As Karma continued to collate documents from the printer,

I skimmed the abstracts of the articles she had gathered. Miralla

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appeared to have been at his most prolific half a century ago. He had

focused almost exclusively on a remote settlement in the shadow

of Ojos del Salado, a massive volcano in the Andes mountains that

straddled the border between Argentina and Chile.

I hefted one of the thicker documents. “Are you up for burning

the midnight oil? You don’t have to do this, you know. I can read

these through by myself and report back.”

Karma reached around me for one of the other stacks of paper

before settling onto the small couch perpendicular to her desk.

She patted the spot beside her then turned her attention to the text.

Clearly, I had my answer.

Four hours and several cartons of Thai food later, I was just

about to suggest that we turn in for the night when Karma leaned

into my space, her forefinger pressed emphatically to the page.

“This sounds eerily familiar.”

The paragraph in question introduced a local legend about a

“parched spirit”—an apparition in the form of a beautiful woman

who descended from the mountain in times of drought and stole

blood from sleeping villagers just as the cloudless sky stole all

moisture from the earth.

“It’s a vampire myth.”

“Yes. But not your normal fare.” She turned the page and pointed

to where Miralla continued to discuss the legend of the “parched

spirit.” This ghostly female figure was most frequently sighted on a

“haunted” ridge above the crater lake to the east of the volcano. She

was regarded as a harbinger of famine, and the villagers considered

any person who saw her to be temporarily cursed.

“It definitely sounds like Ojos del Salado has a vampire tenant.

Or had as of fifty years ago, at least.” I rubbed my gritty eyes. “But

what does this have to do with the flower?”

“Look closely. These sightings are during the daytime.” Karma

reached over to underline several phrases, all of which referenced

the sunlight. “The only vampires who can walk under the sun—”

“—are vampires who haven’t made the transition.” Exhaustion

forgotten, I feverishly reread the passage. “Do you think this vampire

somehow discovered the flower and its properties?”

• 56 •

nightrise

“I have no idea. But the Consortium’s records go back centuries.

If we cross-reference this legend with data in the library, we might

be able to learn more about vampire activity in Argentina and Chile

over the past few decades.”

“I’ll go. Right now.”

Karma laid a hand on my arm. “It’s the middle of the night. If

you go now…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. If I went now, there was

a good chance I’d cross paths with Valentine. My stomach churned

at the thought. I wasn’t ready, especially not after having seen her at

Luna. With Sebastian.

Red haze filmed over my vision, and I focused on taking a

series of deep breaths. Karma eased off the couch to lean against her

desk. With my panther in such turmoil, her jackal had no choice but

to respond to a potential threat. My volatility wasn’t just affecting

me; it was throwing off those around me. Sorrow tempered my

anger. Would I ever be ready?

“You’re right, of course. I’ll wait until morning. And I’m sorry.”

Karma lightly shook the pages in her hand. “Just keep your eye

on the prize.”

❖

“Good morning.” Olivia’s smile of greeting quickly morphed

into a frown. “You look completely exhausted. What’s wrong?”

I set my coffee—a red-eye with a double shot of espresso—

on the table and slid wearily into the chair across from her. When

I’d finally fallen asleep, I had dreamed myself onto a rock-strewn,

almost lunar landscape where I pursued a hooded woman who

danced over lava floes with impunity.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “The short version is that I might

have to go out of town suddenly.”

“To Afghanistan? Alexa—”

“To South America.” I took quick sips of the steaming liquid as

Olivia digested this new information.

“You think you’ve found this flower in South America?”

• 57 •

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“It’s starting to look that way. I’ll know more after I have a

chance to do some additional research.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. My

attention was drawn to the smooth skin of her forearms—as delicate

and elegant as the gold watch that encircled her left wrist. Wholly

unlike the taut, coiled strength of Valentine’s body.

I let my next sip of coffee burn my tongue. No thoughts of

Valentine; not now. If I dwelled too long on the stakes of this

project, I risked losing control because pinning down the flower’s

location was just one step on a long and highly uncertain road. No

full vampire had ever been brought back into the sunlight. It might

not even be possible, but if I started thinking that way, I’d make

myself crazy.

“If this lead pans out, how long will you be gone? What will

you do about school?” Olivia sounded accusatory.

“I don’t know. And I’ll take a leave of absence.”

“A leave of absence in your final semester?”

The panther snarled behind my eyes as my temper flared. “Why

the third degree, Olivia?”

She looked away. “I just don’t want to see you jeopardize your

future.”

My anger ebbed as I realized that not only was Olivia genuinely

concerned, she was also jealous of Valentine and the hold she still

had over me. Despite the intervening months, I was willing to drop

everything and go on a wild goose chase for the woman who had

broken my heart. That had to rankle with Olivia.

But before I could try to explain myself, Karma appeared in

my peripheral vision. She was dressed as immaculately as always

in a chocolate colored suit, with a matching bag perched on her

shoulder, but her eyes were wider and darker than normal. Only

another Were would have been able to sense it, but I knew she was

on high alert.

I stood. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Good morning.” She looked to Olivia, who had also gotten

to her feet. “Ms. Lloyd, we’ve never had the pleasure. I’m Karma

Rao.”

• 58 •

nightrise

“It’s nice to meet you. Alexa speaks of you often.” Olivia

glanced uncertainly between us, and I knew she had picked up on

the tension.

“I’m sorry to have to call you away,” Karma said to me. “But

there’s something I need your opinion on.”

“Of course.” I turned to Olivia. “See you tomorrow?”

She surprised me by reaching for my hand. “Don’t leave town

without telling me.” She squeezed my fingers tightly. “Promise.”

Flustered at the display, I nodded. When she let go, I followed

Karma outside. She stepped to the curb and raised her hand for a

cab.

“What’s going on?”

“Not here. Headquarters.”

Her terse reply only ratcheted up my tension, and the panther

pushed at the borders of my mind. While Karma kept her attention

on her smartphone throughout our cab ride, I fidgeted in my seat,

heels tapping a muted staccato against the floor mat. But when we

reached Consortium Headquarters, Karma pushed my hand away

before I could press the “up” button on the elevator.

“We’re not going to your office?”

“Not yet.”

Valentine had told me that there were medical facilities in

the basement, but the only subterranean level accessible from this

elevator was the hunting arena, where Weres who couldn’t or didn’t

want to leave the city indulged the needs of their inner beasts. Lit by

scores of sun lamps, the enclosure boasted a thick forest at one end

that gradually gave way to a small meadow of prairie grass at the

other. Vampire guards watched over the arena from two observation

decks. Armed with tranquilizer rifles, their orders were to subdue

any Were who turned from hunting prey to hunting peers.

I fixed Karma with a frown. “Why are we here?”

She set her bag down on one of the benches that lined the walls

of the foyer leading up to the arena, then removed her jacket. I didn’t

understand. She was acting as though we were here to hunt, but I

didn’t want to hunt anything except the flower. And she knew it. As

I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, she opened her bag

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and took out a newspaper. The “Lifestyle” section of the Times. She

held it out to me, but still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Page six.”

My panther paced in circles, mirroring the spiraling dread in

my stomach as I flipped through the pages. Halfway down page six,

I saw the headline.

Everything. Stopped.

My nerveless hands would no longer function, and the paper

fluttered to the ground, shedding newsprint. The page fell at my feet,

facing up. Three simple words knifed into my heart and flayed me

open and the panther was coming—she was coming and I didn’t

even want to stop her and finally I realized why Karma had brought

me here. Because she had known this would happen.

Brenner Weds Darrow.

My choked off sob became the panther’s growl, and willingly,

I surrendered my awareness.

❖

It took me a day and a half to find my way back to human form.

This time, I didn’t struggle against the panther’s will but against

my human self. Despair was waiting, and I instinctively shied

away from it, taking refuge in the strong and simple desires of my

panther’s animal brain. Eat. Sleep. Fuck.

Ultimately, it was the urge for sex that roused my human

consciousness. I had no interest in satisfying that impulse with

another Were feline. I only wanted Valentine, and wanting Valentine

was pain.

I woke in the fetal position on a bed of moss beneath an oak

tree, my stomach rumbling with hunger pangs. As I stood, a wolf

emerged from the surrounding foliage. A wolf, like Sebastian. My

panther pushed for dominance again, but this time I forced her back

and instead bared my human teeth, releasing a subvocal growl. In a

blur of brindle, the wolf turned tail and was gone.

I emerged from the arena to find an envelope with my name on

it resting atop a neatly folded pile of clothing. Karma had taken the

• 60 •

nightrise

time to raid my apartment for a change of clothes. I put them on,

then opened the note. Call me.

But I wanted to know all the details first. Someone had cleaned

up the newspaper that my claws had shredded, so I rode the elevator

all the way up to the library and sat at one of the public computers.

A quick search of the Times website yielded the article, and I

swallowed down a surge of bile as I read the brief description of

Sebastian’s and Valentine’s biographical details and how they had

eloped to Bora Bora.

“She did it for the money,” I said, startling a young Were who

was reading in a nearby armchair. When our eyes met, he glanced

away quickly. Leaning back in the chair, I arched my neck in an

effort to ease the taut muscles in my shoulders. My treacherous

brain conjured up the image of Valentine and Sebastian kissing on a

moonlit beach, platinum rings glinting from their joined hands, and

I grit my teeth against the anguished howl that wanted to burst from

my throat.

One deep breath and then another. And another. Gradually, my

pulse slowed and the panther once again receded from the forefront

of my consciousness. Whether Valentine was even capable of love at

this point was debatable, but she didn’t love Sebastian. I knew that

in my bones. She had used him to get to her grandfather’s money. If

I believed anything else, I would go mad.

A sharp cramp in my stomach reminded me that my hunger

wasn’t a luxury but an imperative. Shifting back and forth required

a great deal of energy, and it had been many hours since I’d caught

and killed a hapless rabbit that had been released into the arena by

the guards. As I made my way to the restaurant and bar on the top

floor, I checked my phone. Olivia had texted three times and called

twice. My thumb hovered over the voice mail message she’d left,

and I steeled myself. Doubtless, she had heard about Valentine—

probably not long after I’d left the Starbucks. A shiver ran through

me when I realized just how narrowly I had escaped losing control

in a highly public and crowded place. If Olivia had read the paper

earlier, or if Karma had arrived later…

• 61 •

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Shaking off the hypothetical, I listened to Olivia’s message.

She vacillated between professions of sympathy and more demands

that I not leave the country—at least, not without her.

I sat in a booth near one of the northwest-facing windows so

I could have a view of the Empire State Building. After ordering

a steak and a very dirty vodka martini—a drink that was “safe”

because Valentine regarded any martini not made with gin as an

abomination—I called Karma. She picked up on the first ring.

“Alexa.” The syllables of my name had never sounded so

comforting. Unlike Olivia, Karma didn’t have to say anything else

to show me exactly what she was feeling.

“Thank you,” I said around the lump in my throat. “She…she

did it for the money.”

If Karma heard the need for reassurance in my voice, she made

no indication. “I agree. What do you want to do?”

“I want to find the Tear of Isis. As soon as possible.”

“I did some research last night, while you were still four-footed.

Most of the vampire activity in Argentina over the past century has

occurred in and around Buenos Aires. Many of the most prominent

landowners in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the

estancieros, made alliances with a small group of vampires in order

to consolidate their political interests in the region.”

I drummed my fingernails against the lacquered wooden table

top. “But isn’t Buenos Aires hundreds of miles from Ojos del

Salado?”

“Yes. It will be impossible to tell whether there’s a connection

unless we investigate.”

“I’ll book a flight within the hour.”

Karma sighed softly. “I can’t go with you. Not right now. Not

when Malcolm is still in a coma.”

I had suspected as much, and oddly, I felt relief. Alone, I could

push as hard as I wanted and take as many risks as I needed. No one

would be watching my back, but no one would hold me back either.

“I know. You’ve done so much already, Karma. Please don’t

feel badly.”

“You should have company. Maybe—”

• 62 •

nightrise

At that moment, the waiter returned and I jumped at the excuse.

“My dinner just arrived. I’ll call you later.”

Part of me felt guilty for brushing her off so quickly, but my

conscience quieted as I focused on making travel arrangements in

between bites of my steak. By the time I’d finished eating, I had

booked an open-return airline reservation to Buenos Aires. My

departing flight left in fifteen hours. That didn’t give me much time

to put my affairs in order and my clothing in a suitcase.

And to drop out of law school.

The thought gave me pause, but only for a moment. I would

finish, eventually—once I had brought Valentine back from

wherever her soul had fled to or I had exhausted every lead trying.

When I did return to school, I could pick up precisely where I had

left off. I wouldn’t look a day older than I did right now.

I spent the subway ride home daydreaming of racing over the

grassy plains between Buenos Aires and the Andes. The earth would

be alive and warm under my paws, the air redolent with exotic

scents. Crystal clear rivers would assuage my thirst, and the light of

unfamiliar stars would guide my path. I would shed the bonds of my

grief and glory in the thrill of the hunt.

And then I turned the corner to find Olivia sitting on the stoop

of my apartment building. She was hunched over her phone, a

steaming cup of coffee from the cafe across the street at her side.

She looked freezing.

“How long have you been here?”

Her head jerked up and I watched her take in my appearance.

I wondered what she saw when she looked at me—whether my

grim resolve showed in the planes of my face, and whether the soul-

wrenching sorrow was buried deep enough not to.

“A while. I knew you’d have to come home eventually.” She

moved her cup so I could sit beside her, but I stayed on my feet.

“Thanks for your message.”

“I know you’re going to South America. I’m not letting you go

alone.”

I shook my head. “You’ll slow me down. You’ll get in my way.

And you very well might get hurt.”

• 63 •

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Her eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m being honest.” I sat and wrapped my arms around my

middle to stave off the chill of the air and stone. “If Karma hadn’t

come to get me when she did, I would have found out about

Valentine and Sebastian while I was in a public place—maybe even

our Starbucks. I would have shifted, and I probably would have

killed. That’s how little control I had in that moment.”

Olivia’s expression never changed. “When are you leaving?”

My sigh of frustration clouded as soon as it hit the air. “I have

no idea what I’ll encounter down there. I might be walking into the

territory of a very hostile and very powerful vampire.”

“All the more reason for you to have backup. What flight did

you book?”

For a moment, I thought of lying to her. But if I did, she would

discover the truth and come after me anyway. My panther snarled as

our daydream of running under the hot Argentinean sun shattered,

but the all-too-human part of me felt comforted that I wouldn’t be

alone in my quest.

“Val brought Abby back from the brink of death,” Olivia said.

“I owe her. And right now, repaying that debt means helping you.”

Tears burned behind my eyes at her words, and I stood quickly,

unwilling to let her see the tears fall. “I’ll forward you my flight

confirmation. Pack lightly.”

“Thank you,” she called after me as I let myself in the front

door.

I was left wondering whether, when this story had played itself

out, she would still feel gratitude.

• 64 •

nightrise

Chapter Six

Olivia and I argued for much of the eleven-hour flight. We

had a row to ourselves in first class, and after I filled her in

on Karma’s findings and the details of Marilla’s research, we debated

how to proceed once the plane landed. I wanted to get to Ojos del

Salado as soon as possible to begin my search for the flower. She

wanted to stay in Buenos Aires long enough to determine whether

there was some kind of connection between the vampire-sponsored

estanciero families and the region near the volcano.

“You want us to look for a needle in a haystack,” she had said,

balling up her cocktail napkin in the palm of her hand.

“You want us to drag our feet,” I’d shot back. The prospect of

cooling our heels in the city, hundreds of miles from where we knew

we needed to be, made my panther pace in a tight spiral. She never

felt comfortable in claustrophobic airplane cabins, but on this flight,

the strain of holding her back had given me a wicked headache.

“With just a little investigation, we might be able to narrow

down the search area.” Olivia rested her hand on my arm, and I

didn’t know whether to shy away from her touch or accept it. “I

have a contact at the U.S. Embassy. Let me talk to her. She might

know someone who could help us.”

I pulled back and massaged my temples. Beneath my fingers,

I could feel the deep throb of my pulse. My panther was picking up

on my ambivalence about Olivia, and her anxiety contributed to the

tension in my shoulders and neck. I needed a long, deep massage to

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coax the tautness from my muscles. Valentine had actually taken a

few massage classes, and she could read my body so well that she

always used just the right amount of—

“Damn it.” My stomach flipped as the memories shattered.

“What?” Olivia’s face registered alarm, and I wondered

whether she was concerned that I might shift mid-flight.

Unwilling to explain, I shook my head and focused back on

our debate. If I needed to give a little ground to gain some peace

and quiet, then so be it. “I want us to get to the Andes as soon as

possible, but we’re going to need provisions. While I find them, you

touch base with your contact. But if you don’t turn up anything by

the time I’ve secured our supplies, I won’t wait.”

Olivia opened her mouth to protest but apparently thought

better of it. “I hope you do finish school,” she grumbled. “You’re

going to make one hell of a lawyer.”

I ignored her and reached for the English to Spanish dictionary

I’d brought along. My backwoods Wisconsin upbringing was

about to come in useful. We were going to need tents, sleeping

bags, dried food, iodine capsules, and canteens. I’d had two years

of Spanish in high school, but all I remembered at this point was

how to count to twenty and ask for the location of the bathroom. At

the very least, I needed to write out a proper shopping list before

the plane landed.

❖

We touched down as the sun rose swaddled in wispy clouds the

color of cotton candy. I breathed in as I stepped onto the jet bridge,

and my panther relaxed ever so slightly at the hint of fresh air. But by

the time we had cleared Customs and rented a Jeep, my impatience

had returned full-force. When Olivia moved toward the driver’s

side, I reacted instinctively, narrowing my eyes and releasing the

low growl that had been simmering in my throat since boarding the

plane in New York.

She stopped in her tracks. “Jesus, Alexa. What the hell?”

“I’m driving.”

• 66 •

nightrise

She didn’t speak again until the Buenos Aires skyline filled the

view through the windshield. “Why do you keep pushing me away

when I’m only trying to help?”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I retorted, giving my anger and

frustration free rein. To answer her question honestly would mean

confessing that she reminded me of Valentine in some ways. And

that I found her attractive. Sometimes.

Her jaw tightened and she glanced away. Guilt followed quickly

on the heels of my outburst.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired, and my head is throbbing.” I reached

over to brush my fingertips across her jeans-clad knee. “Look…let’s

splurge on a hotel, okay? We may as well have one night of luxury

before we head for the hills.”

A smile flitted over her lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“You’re the one with the map.”

After a few minutes of study, she raised her head. “The Four

Seasons?”

“Why not.”

My olive branch seemed to have worked, because between

issuing directions, she chatted to me about the Recoleta District,

where the hotel was located. It sounded like the Upper East Side:

full of high-end boutiques and galleries.

“Have you been here before?” I asked as I turned off the main

highway.

“No. I just like to do my homework before I travel.”

I didn’t reply. It worried me that Olivia was treating this trip like

some kind of quasi-vacation. I had no interest in cultural attractions

besides the shard of clay that had led us here, and no desire to shop

for anything that wouldn’t help us survive our wild goose chase.

When we pulled into the semicircular drive, my stomach began

to churn. The hotel was a converted turn of the century mansion

connected to a modern tower. The ambiance, both outside and within

the lavish lobby, was decidedly romantic. Crystal chandeliers hung

from the vaulted ceiling, setting the air afire as their light reflected

off the polished mosaic floor. Beside me, Olivia was regarding

our surroundings with cool appraisal where Valentine would have

• 67 •

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been exuberant. I could so easily picture Val’s broad smile and feel

her warm hands clasping my waist as she spun me in an exultant

circle. Gritting my teeth against the aching hollowness in my chest,

I walked briskly toward the counter.

“How may I help you?” asked the young man behind it, clearly

recognizing an American.

“We would like a room for tonight, please. Two beds.”

Within minutes, I was pulling aside the blackout curtains over

our windows to reveal a stunning view of downtown Buenos Aires,

tree-lined streets giving way to the glinting spires of a cluster of

skyscrapers.

“Which direction is the ocean?” Olivia mused, hovering at my

elbow.

“East.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed away from the wall. “No

sightseeing. I get it. What’s the plan?”

“We’ll find a place that sells disposable cell phones and then

we’ll split up. You go meet with your contact. Check in with me at

six unless you discover something earlier.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“I’ll be fine. But that reminds me, if you’re going to be vampire

bait, then we’re going to need to find you a gun.”

Disbelief widened her eyes. “Vampire bait? Is that what I’m

doing here?”

“Unless they’re very new or very stupid, vampires know

better than to prey on unwilling shifters. Just be prepared to defend

yourself.”

“With a gun? Bullets work against them?”

I couldn’t help it; I was enjoying her confusion. “They’re

really quite fragile,” I said, patting my pocket for my wallet and

room key. Elation swept over me. We were finally on the move.

There would be no more waiting now. As I passed Olivia on my

way to the door, I found myself smiling. “You shouldn’t believe

everything you read.”

❖

• 68 •

nightrise

The late afternoon sun was hot on the back of my neck as I

piled boxes of supplies into the trunk of the Jeep. A dry breeze

drove dust devils across the patch of dirt and asphalt that doubled

as the parking lot for the warehouse of a local mountaineering

company. This facility wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, and I

was deliberately allowing my panther to stay close to the surface.

The stocky man who had helped me pick out the items on my list

had regarded me with a predatory leer until he glimpsed the feline

presence behind my eyes. After that, he’d been positively meek.

I had purchased enough provisions to last a month. Dried fruit,

nuts, couscous, and rice would be the staples of our diet, which I could

supplement by hunting wildlife. We would set up a camp near the

base of the volcano and make forays into the mountains from there.

The unfamiliar ringtone of my phone startled me, and the

panther nosed her way forward to test the mental walls that held her.

I took a long, deep breath before answering.

“How soon can you make it to the National Library? It’s in the

same neighborhood as our hotel.”

“You found something?”

“Possibly. We were able to enlist the help of the Director of

Special Collections.”

Apprehension shivered down my spine. “We?”

“My contact—a consular officer at the embassy. She has very

kindly taken a personal interest in our research project. Apparently,

it’s a lot more interesting than spending the afternoon processing

visas.”

Faint laughter emanated through Olivia’s mouthpiece—her

contact responding to the gibe. I closed the trunk harder than I’d

intended. I didn’t want other people knowing the details of our

mission, not even if they thought it was some kind of academic

enterprise. Everyone in New York was preoccupied with Brenner’s

movements, but I didn’t dare relax my guard. Since her transition,

Valentine had not only accepted the mantle of the Missionary; she

had also claimed her human birthright as the scion of one of the

wealthiest families in America. There was little doubt in my mind

that Helen would stand in the way of anything that might threaten

• 69 •

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her perfect protégé. And if this escapade proved fruitful, Val would

be mine again. Not hers.

“I can be there within the hour,” I said.

Driven by my worry over what clues Olivia might inadvertently

drop to her friend, I made it in just under forty minutes. The

Biblioteca Nacional de la República Argentina overlooked a verdant

courtyard, but I didn’t pause to admire the view. When I told the

security guard in my halting Spanish that I was looking for two

Americans who were in a meeting with the Director, he ushered

me down a side hallway and up two flights of stairs before letting

me into a windowless room. Three women were clustered at the

far end of a large rectangular table. As I stepped into the climate-

controlled environment, Olivia smiled broadly. Had she actually

found something in a matter of hours?

“Alexa, hi. Allow me to introduce Katrina Mason, my contact

at the embassy.” She indicated the statuesque brunette to her left,

who murmured a hello even as she inspected me shrewdly.

“And this is Dr. Julia Esperanza, who has charge of Special

Collections.” Olivia gestured to the petite, silver-haired woman to

her right. “We’ve been examining documents that are almost two

hundred years old. Apparently, the estancieros left detailed property

records to avoid inheritance disputes.”

Dr. Esperanza looked to Katrina, who spoke a string of Spanish

words that I assumed to be a translation of Olivia’s speech. She

nodded once before replying.

“Dr. Esperanza has spent the past few hours glancing over the

wills and deeds belonging to the six greatest estanciero families in

the hopes of connecting their landholdings to the region discussed

by Señor Marilla,” Katrina translated. “The likeliest prospect seems

to be the Carrizo family. Their last surviving will makes mention of

a substantial holding in the foothills of Ojos del Salado, north of the

town of Fiambala.”

When Dr. Esperanza spoke again, faint frown lines materialized

across Katrina’s forehead. “This may prove especially interesting

for your research. Dr. Esperanza has just informed me that this

particular family is…cursed.”

• 70 •

nightrise

“Cursed?” I worked to school my expression in the hopes

that everyone would attribute my reaction to American naiveté. A

legend of some kind of curse could easily point to vampire or shifter

involvement.

“The story is told in one of the deeds of the Vargas family, who

annexed most of the Carrizo property in the late nineteenth century.

Apparently, some kind of ‘monster’ or ‘ghost’—both words are

used in the text—slaughtered almost the entire family in their villa.”

I braced my palms on the table to disguise the surge of

adrenaline that had set my hands to shaking. “Almost the entire

family? Someone survived?”

Katrina relayed the question and Dr. Esperanza bent over a

tattered document for several long moments. The anticipation was

excruciating.

“One woman may have survived—the family matriarch, a

woman named Solana, whose body was never recovered,” Katrina

said. “The other families conducted a search for Solana, but it was

fruitless.”

“Was it unusual for a family to have a woman at its head?”

Olivia asked.

“Very. As far as Dr. Esperanza knows, Solana Carrizo is the

only documented female estanciero.”

“So maybe this crime was perpetuated by one of the other

families,” Olivia said. “Because they didn’t like a woman being in

a position of power.”

I nodded, not because I believed that interpretation of events,

but because I wanted to steer the conversation away from monsters

and ghosts. It seemed far more likely to me that this Solana Carrizo

had run afoul of the vampire who sponsored her family.

“The piece of property in the mountains is called ‘Rancho

del Sombra,’” Katrina translated as she looked at the text over Dr.

Esperanza’s shoulder.

“Shadow Ranch.” Even I could translate that phrase. The name

had probably been a reference to the ranch’s location in the shadow

of the volcano, but the ominous connotation seemed especially

fitting now.

• 71 •

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“You’re really planning to pay it a visit?” said Katrina. “You do

realize that the trip will take days. The roads here are nothing like

the highways that crisscross the States.”

I kept my gaze and voice steady. “We are. And I know.”

“We aren’t risking any kind of legal sanctions from the

government, are we?” asked Olivia.

“As long as you’re not excavating, you’ll be fine. But if you do

discover something, please report it right away.”

“Of course.” I turned to Dr. Esperanza, who was still hunched

over the fragments of frayed parchment. “Gracias, señora.”

After Olivia and Katrina had made their farewells, the three

of us headed for the exit. “Thank you for serving as our interpreter,

Katrina,” I said as we walked down the stairs.

“I’m glad I could help. I really did need an afternoon off, and

your project sounds fascinating.”

As we emerged onto the ground floor, Olivia spun to face us.

“Let’s all go out for a celebratory dinner. Trina should choose the

place.” Her color was high, and the light flush painted across her

cheekbones set off her dark eyes. She was stunning in her triumph,

and I had to look away.

“You two go ahead. I’m going to turn in early.”

“Alexa—” When Olivia touched my shoulder, I was hard-

pressed not to shrug off her grip. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong

with feeling a twinge of arousal around her. It was natural. To be

expected. And my guilt was wholly out of place. I was a single

woman, after all.

“I won’t leave without you, Liv,” I said lightly. “Promise. Have

a good time.”

Before she could protest again, I forged through the double

doors and into the rising night.

• 72 •

nightrise

Chapter SeveN

We pulled out of the hotel parking garage under a pearl-

gray sky. As I turned the car onto the nearly deserted

boulevard that would lead us out of Buenos Aires, I smiled in

satisfaction. Beside me, Olivia curled into herself and rested her

forehead against the cool windowpane. She had returned to the

hotel room late, and I hadn’t needed the keen senses of a shifter to

know she’d been drinking. I’d been able to resume only a fitful doze

before my alarm had woken me well before dawn, but I didn’t feel

fatigued—only energized for the hunt to come.

When I pulled over three hours later for gas and coffee, Olivia

woke. She would have drunk from one of our canteens if I hadn’t

glared at her and pointed to the small store next to the pumps.

“Ojos del Salado isn’t all that far from the driest desert in the

world. Water is going to be a precious commodity.”

She gave me a baleful look and stalked toward the store. After

hooking up the pump, I did a few stretches to limber up my stiff

shoulders and hamstrings. Olivia emerged with two bottles of water

while I was bent over with my palms nearly touching the dust. She

whistled, and I couldn’t fight the blush that crept up my neck.

“You’re feeling better, I take it?” I said, not meeting her eyes.

“Last night was worth a little headache. You should have come

with us. We drank some amazing wine.” She unwrapped a candy bar

as I pulled back onto the road. “Trina had heard that the Fiambala

area is known for its vineyards, so we sampled a few bottles.”

• 73 •

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“And?”

I caught her teasing smile in my peripheral vision. “And I

thought this trip was all about business to you. Suddenly you care

about wine?”

“I was making conversation to be polite. Do you even remember

how?”

She laughed. “You know my last name. Politeness is hardwired

into our genes.”

I couldn’t help but think of Valentine, whose parents had

chosen the company of so-called polite society over accepting their

own daughter. “Did your family…how did they react, when you

came out?”

Olivia blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Ah, there was

some grumbling. Mostly on the part of my grandparents and one

of my uncles. But my mother and father have never been anything

but supportive.” She shot me a sympathetic look. “Val didn’t have

it easy, did she?”

“Never. She fought them tooth and nail. Until…”

“What about you?” Olivia asked quickly. “And your family?”

“They sound a lot like yours—on the tolerance count, anyway.

I’m lucky.”

“We both are.”

We settled into a comfortable silence, and for the first time

since we had left New York, I found myself unambiguously glad

that Olivia had insisted on accompanying me. The journey would

have been long and lonely otherwise. And I wouldn’t have learned

about Shadow Ranch.

“Solana Carrizo.” Only at Olivia’s curious glance did I realize

I’d said the words aloud. “It’s a beautiful name, don’t you think?”

“She must have been quite the woman to have bucked tradition

and taken over the leadership of her family.”

“Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”

Olivia drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “You think one

of her family members forced her into it?”

“Or maybe a vampire did. If they were sponsoring the estancieros, then she might have been caught in the middle of a turf war.”

• 74 •

nightrise

“Do you have any idea what they were doing in Argentina?”

Olivia asked.

“No.” But as the miles of rolling plains passed under our tires, I

carefully considered her question. “I wonder if historically, it’s been

easier for vampires—and for shifters, to a degree—to live in places

undergoing some kind of social or political upheaval.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. In times of turmoil, people who

deviate from the norm don’t stand out as much.”

“Are you calling me abnormal?” At Olivia’s obvious chagrin, I

smiled. “Relax. I was just teasing.”

“Who knew you still had it in you,” she muttered. But then

her expression turned thoughtful. “In a way, though, the question

of ‘normalcy’ is legitimate, isn’t it? You call yourself a shifter, but

what does that mean?”

“It’s up for debate,” I said, remembering back to several long

conversations with Delacourte over the summer. A momentary

twinge of grief made my chest constrict. “I’m not sure anyone

knows how we evolved, or how long ago. Whether we’re different

species, or sub-species of humans, or just…diseased.”

“But you can reproduce, can’t you?”

“Shifters can,” I said automatically, then clamped my jaw shut,

wishing I could take the words back. There were some secrets that

shouldn’t be entrusted to anyone outside the community.

“Not vampires?”

When I remained silent, Olivia settled back in her seat. “Okay,

fine. I understand. Let’s talk about something else, like what we’re

going to do when we get to Fiambala. We still don’t exactly have

GPS coordinates for Shadow Ranch, and neither of us knows enough

Spanish to go sleuthing.”

I smiled. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh?”

“While you were carousing last night, I did some research

online. There’s a famous mountaineering store in Fiambala that

supplies hikers from around the world for treks up Ojos del Salado.

I’m betting someone there speaks English, and they may even have

heard of Shadow Ranch.”

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When I glanced at Olivia, she actually seemed impressed.

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Not wanting to jinx us, I didn’t reply.

❖

We crossed over the city limits of Fiambala just after noon the

next day. Olivia navigated us through the narrow streets with a map

we’d purchased at a gas station at the edge of town, and within only

a few minutes, we pulled into the parking lot behind the store. It was

packed with other Jeeps, pickups of all sizes, and even some ATVs.

Inside, a fair-haired couple were surveying rucksacks hanging

on the wall and conversing in a Scandinavian-sounding language. I

headed straight for the counter, where a tanned youth slouched on

a stool. He looked me up and down as I approached, and grinned.

I managed to resist rolling my eyes. “Could you give us some

directions, please?”

“Where to, señorita?”

“A place called Shadow Ranch. Somewhere to the north of

here.”

He flexed his biceps and smoothed one finger over the patchy

mustache he’d doubtless cultivated for weeks. “You ever hear ‘mi

casa es su casa?’”

Olivia brushed the back of her knuckles against my cheek

as she joined me at the counter. The boy’s eyes bugged at her

caress. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “Now, how about those

directions?”

He blinked at us, said a word in Spanish that I didn’t recognize,

and disappeared into the back of the store. Olivia’s smile was broad.

“You’re welcome.”

I bumped her shoulder lightly with mine. “I could have handled

it.”

“I didn’t want the poor boy to get his head ripped off. He was

only flirting with a beautiful woman.”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to come up with a response. A middle-

aged man emerged from the back with the teen in tow and greeted us

• 76 •

nightrise

with the sandpaper voice of a lifetime smoker. He wore a tight gray

T-shirt that accentuated the corded muscles of his arms, and his face

was dark and weathered like the crags of the mountains that loomed

above us.

“Good afternoon,” he said in careful English. “I am Emilio.

How can I help?”

“We’re doing some hiking around the volcano,” I said. “We’ve

heard of a place called Shadow Ranch, and we’d like to go there.

Do you know it?”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You want the…the casa

encantada, eh? The ghost house?”

“Haunted house,” Olivia said. “Yes, we want to see it.”

“You see it, the ghost might see you.”

“We’re not worried,” I said. “How do we get there?”

He shrugged and picked up a black marker from its perch on

the cash register, then turned over a colorful flyer for one of the local

motels and began to draw. As the map took shape, he explained that

the path to the ranch had fallen out of use long ago and was easy to

miss from the main road.

“Can I drive my Jeep? Or will we have to walk?”

He shook his head. “I do not know.”

“You’ve never been there?”

His brows angled in a frown. “The land is cursed.”

I stuffed several bills into the tip jar on the counter. “Thank you

for your help.”

He said nothing, and as we left the store, I wondered whether

he would keep the money. Or whether, simply by virtue of being

associated with the haunted house, Emilio would consider it too to

be cursed.

❖

We drove past the head of the trail three times before finally

noticing the two distinct ruts still visible through gaps in the foliage.

But our success was short-lived. Less than a hundred yards down the

path, we were forced to abandon the Jeep before a massive fallen tree.

• 77 •

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“Man or nature?” Olivia asked as we stood over the decomposing

trunk. It was already an inextricable part of the landscape, new

plants having taken root in and around the tree’s carcass.

“I think someone did this,” I said. “Look at the ninety-degree

angle with the path. That’s not haphazard.”

Beyond the obstacle, the trail curved up and to the northwest

before disappearing into a dense stand of trees. I returned to the

Jeep and hefted the large pack that held our camping supplies, then

directed Olivia to take a smaller bag filled with dried food.

“Why do you get to be the macho one?” she said as she watched

me adjust the thick straps so the pack’s weight was concentrated

more on my hips than on my back.

“Because I’m the one with superpowers.”

I had been trying to make a joke, but Olivia blinked in surprise.

“Your panther makes you stronger when you’re human, too?”

“I’m not human,” I corrected her. “I just look like one some-

times. And the answer to your question is yes.” I could have told her

more—how my healing ability and senses were also enhanced—but

she already knew too much. Besides, my panther was on high alert

now that we were in the wild. She wanted to hunt, and her seething

impatience was bleeding into me.

“How many hours do we have until dark?” Olivia asked as she

clambered over the tree after me.

“Sunset’s at eight twenty-five.” Not wanting to be caught

unprepared at nightfall, I had looked it up this morning. Of course, if

my theory about the vampire presence here was correct, he or she was

not confined to the darkness and could surprise us at any time. Not

exactly a comforting thought, but I tried to soothe my inner beast by

reminding her of our significant physical advantage over vampires.

The trail grew worse as we traveled further from the main road,

and Olivia soon abandoned any other attempts at conversation. I

let my panther ride close to the surface, allowing her instincts to

monitor our surroundings. She scented deer a few times, and once

even a bear, but never did she detect anything amiss.

And then, as the afternoon light began to dim and the air grew

cooler, we stepped into a large clearing. In the distance, across a

• 78 •

nightrise

hundred yards of tall, unruly grass, sat a white stone house set into

the hillside. A two-tiered terrace led down to the field, bordered by a

barn on one side and a corral on the other. Behind the house, the land

rose sharply, sweeping up and back to form one flank of the mountain.

“Shadow Ranch,” said Olivia.

I accepted the canteen she handed me and drank deeply. “Shall

we go see who’s home?”

Olivia drew her gun and examined it closely, then thumbed off

the safety. “Ready when you are.”

But when she would have moved forward, I stopped her with

my hand on her wrist. “If something happens and I shift, there are

two things you should know.” She paled slightly at the thought,

and I found myself stroking her forearm in reassurance. “I’ll have

control of the panther. It’s always a fight, but I won’t hurt you, and

I’ll be able to understand anything you say.”

She nodded once. “What’s the second thing?”

“I’ll be ravenous. Shifting takes a lot of energy, and I’ll need to

hunt and eat before I can return to human form.”

Her laugh was shaky. “Just as long as I’m not your quarry.”

“I told you, I won’t hurt you.” I made her the promise with a

newfound confidence—born, ironically, of that disastrous night at

Luna when I’d run into Valentine. I hadn’t been able to keep from

shifting, but I’d managed to avoid causing any human casualties.

After maintaining control through that emotional crucible, I felt

reasonably certain that I would only ever surrender to my panther’s

predatory instincts on my own terms.

“I trust you,” Olivia said.

I turned to face the ranch. There was no way to conceal our

approach short of crawling through the grass, and if someone were

watching from the elevated house, they would see us regardless.

There was no sense in stowing the packs here and trying to be

sneaky. We were going to have to walk in the open. I took a steadying

breath and then moved forward, sticking to the shelter of the trees as

long as possible before finally turning into the meadow. My panther

wanted to be the one doing the stalking, and I grimaced at the effort

of holding her back.

• 79 •

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We reached the edge of the terrace without mishap and turned

onto the gravel path that wound up to the front door. Dirt and leaves

mingled with round, white stones. It was clear that this walkway,

at least, had not been rigorously maintained for many years. As we

walked, I peered up into the large front windows but couldn’t see

anything past the glare.

The front door was large and made of oak. Wood grains

showed through the burnished gold paint in several places. A fresh

coat was long overdue. I glanced at Olivia, who simply shrugged

and tightened her fingers on the grip of her gun.

“Here goes nothing,” I said before raising the heavy knocker

and letting it fall once, twice, three times. I leaned forward in

expectation, confident that my amplified hearing would alert me to

any movement. But aside from the soft skittering of mice in the

walls, I heard nothing.

“Now what?” Olivia asked once it became obvious that no

one would be greeting us. She palmed the door handle, but it didn’t

move. “Shall I shoot the lock?”

“And alert everyone within a mile? I don’t think so.” I brushed

her hand away, gripped the elaborate pewter knob, and twisted

sharply as I pushed with preternatural strength. There was the sound

of wood splintering, and then the door swung inward.

I glanced over my shoulder at Olivia, who looked equal parts

surprised and impressed, and gestured for her to follow me. The

interior of the house was dim, and I paused just inside the door to

give my eyes a chance to adjust. To our left was a parlor, complete

with several armchairs and a chaise lounge. Across the hall, the

dining room took up the remaining width of the house. The long

table was covered with a sheet, but thick gilt legs made of a dark

wood stuck out from beneath the coverlet.

The rooms were deserted. I held my breath to listen, but the

house was still. Silent. Even so, my arms and neck prickled in

warning, and I shrugged off the pack to gain a greater range of

motion. If someone tried to steal it, I would hear their movements.

I beckoned Olivia forward, and we made our way down the hall

until it ended at the foot of a spiral staircase. Two rooms branched

• 80 •

nightrise

off from the corridor. To the right, the coppery tiles of the spacious

kitchen gleamed in counterpoint to its pale wooden cupboards.

To the left, dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering into a room

bordered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. My attention was drawn

to an ornate wooden desk and the artwork that hung above it—a

watercolor rendition of the ranch, poised like a bright pearl set deep

into the maw of the volcanic ridge.

Wanting to examine the painting, I stepped over the threshold…

only to gasp as my panther thrashed wildly. Her desperation

punched the breath from my lungs, and I reached out blindly for

the doorframe. But my hand closed on air as I was suddenly shoved

to the side, and I cried out as my assailant pinned my arm behind

my back. My attacker swept my legs out from under me, and for an

instant, I was falling.

“Uje!” I gasped. And then my panther was on me.

• 81 •

• 82 •

nightrise

Chapter eight

Olivia was shouting something, but her words were lost

to me in my bone-wrenching slide into feline form. The

disorientation faded as quickly as it had come, and I flattened myself

to the ground, haunches coiled to spring. Olivia was pointing her gun

at a woman, who was in turn pointing her gun at me. The stranger’s

wavy dark hair framed a grim expression. She wore form-fitting

dark green cargo pants and a matching vest over a beige blouse, and

her hand wavered as she debated the focus of her revolver.

“Drop your weapon.” Olivia’s voice was pitched higher than

usual, but her words were steady.

As soon as the stranger’s arm began to pivot, I sprang,

knocking her to the floor. But as she fell, the sharp report of her

pistol pierced my ears. Olivia’s cry of pain and the tang of blood in

the air drove me wild. Hunger twisted in my belly like a writhing

snake, compounded by the wholly feline desire to tear my assailant

apart. She struggled, and I pressed harder on her shoulders, piercing

her fragile flesh with my claws. I wanted her blood in my mouth and

her bones between my jaws. Snarling into her ashen face, I bared my

teeth and tensed for the lunge that would tear out her throat.

“Alexa, no!” Olivia cried. She was alive, her words breathless

but strong. I paused, saliva dripping onto the woman’s neck. Olivia

was slumped against the wall, one hand covering her left shoulder.

Blood seeped slowly between her fingertips. “It’s not serious. I’m

okay. I’m okay. Don’t hurt her.”

• 83 •

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My panther’s every instinct warred against retreat. She wanted

to finish the job, and in so doing, to satiate herself. It was an effort to

pull her back from the stranger and into a wary crouch. Tail lashing, I

watched as Olivia rose slowly, then took possession of the stranger’s

gun and ordered her to sit with her back to the wall.

“I did not intentionally fire at you,” the woman said. Her accent

was an intriguing combination of British and Argentinean, her voice

remarkably steady for a woman who had been on the cusp of a gory

death. “My gun discharged as I fell. Is your wound serious?”

“I’ll live.” With a practiced movement, Olivia ejected the

stranger’s clip and tucked the pistol into her waistband. Blood

trickled down her arm, but she paid it no mind. She wasn’t losing it

quickly enough to risk fainting right away, but that meant the bullet

was probably still inside her body. She would need surgery. “Who

are you?”

The woman swept her hair back from her face, looking far

more regal than she had any right to under the circumstances. “My

name is Solana Carrizo, and this home has been in my family for

generations. You are the interlopers here. Who are you?”

Olivia’s jaw dropped and a low whine escaped my throat. Solana

Carrizo? The female estanciero, who had been born over a century

ago? If so, she had to be a vampire. I edged closer to her and inhaled,

but her scent was wholly unfamiliar: not pungent like a human’s,

nor musky like a shifter’s, nor the sharp chill of a snowbound winter

morning that I’d always associated with vampires.

“Solana Carrizo? But…but how old are you?”

Solana’s stare was coolly defiant. “Why should I answer your

questions?”

She was toying with us while Olivia was injured. Baring my

teeth, I growled and took a menacing step closer in an attempt to

show her exactly why she should be cooperative.

“Alexa. Stop.”

Solana’s thin eyebrows arched. “The cat—she is under your

control?”

Olivia shook her head, then winced as the movement agitated

her injury. “She’s under her own control.”

• 84 •

nightrise

Solana regarded me pensively, then turned back to Olivia.

“What is your business here? Why have you trespassed on my land?”

Olivia didn’t have an immediate reply, and I could practically

feel her trying to sort out how much information to give this

woman—or whatever she was. Bending awkwardly, she reached for

one of the scraps from my shirt that I’d shredded during my shift

and pressed it against her shoulder. The flow of blood had slowed,

but as the adrenaline wore off, her pain would only increase. And

that bullet had to come out.

“My name is Olivia,” she said finally. “Alexa and I—we’re

searching for something. Something that could save the life of…of

a friend. We were told that this place has been deserted for years.”

She managed a chuckle. “That it was haunted.”

“Haunted.” Solana’s gaze was unfocused, as though the object

of her scrutiny was far off in the distance. “In a manner of speaking.”

She rose to her feet and Olivia cursed, fumbling for her gun. In an

instant, I stood between them, snarling.

She waved me away. “Stop this. That wound needs tending to.

I know of a skilled curandero—a healer—in a nearby village. Let

me take you there.”

“We have a Jeep just off the highway.” Olivia sounded as

doubtful of her proposition as I felt. “I can get medical attention in

Fiambala.”

“Your vehicle is hours away on foot, and dusk is almost upon

us. We can be in the village of which I speak by sunset.”

“How will we get there?”

“I have a car concealed nearby. The cat—Alexa, you call her?

She can follow us.”

Olivia looked conflicted, but the right decision seemed clear

to me—though I didn’t like it. If Solana was a vampire, she had

excellent control over her bloodlust. She could, of course, be harmful

even if she wasn’t, but her words and mannerisms felt genuine

to me. It might seem foolish to take such a risk on intuition, but

Solana was right; our options were slim. Olivia’s condition would

only deteriorate, and the longer she went without medical care, the

greater the probability of infection became.

• 85 •

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Once I hunted, I would be able to follow their trail closely.

Depending on the quality of the road to this village, I might even

be able to keep pace with Solana’s car. Olivia still had her weapon

and the strength to use it; she wouldn’t be unprotected. Besides,

Solana’s offer gave us the excuse to stay close to her. She could be

the “parched spirit” of Miralla’s translated anecdotes, and I wasn’t

about to let her get away.

“What do you think?” Olivia asked me, fully meeting my gaze

for the first time since my shift. It wasn’t an easy thing for a human

to do. I could tell that the pain was beginning to register; her eyes

were hazy and her cheeks had lost their flush.

I paced close to her and brushed against her thigh, then dipped

my head and nosed gently at her legs, propelling her in Solana’s

direction.

“She, at least, believes I can be trusted.” Solana sounded

bemused, but when she glanced my way, I silently bared my teeth.

Her answering nod was proof that she understood the stakes.

If any more harm came to Olivia, Solana’s life was forfeit.

❖

As Solana pulled out of the barn, I let my panther’s instincts

take over. Within minutes, I had flushed out, caught, and devoured

a brown hare from the nearby woods. As the hunger waned, my

control and concentration improved. I was soon following the fresh

tire tracks north and east over a steep rise and along a sparsely

forested ridge. Several miles later, the tracks made a switch-backed

descent into a narrow ravine that opened into a small box canyon.

I scented the village before I could see it, but my panther balked at

walking into what she considered to be a trap. The canyon walls

were sheer, and the path in was also the only way out.

I abandoned the tracks and clung to the thin cover available

from the sparsely distributed trees and undergrowth. The village

was a cluster of whitewashed buildings, but most of the rooftops

glinted silver from the presence of solar panels. Somehow, clean

energy had found this remote community. I wove in and out of the

• 86 •

nightrise

shadows in as wide a circle as the steep canyon walls would allow,

until Solana’s melodic voice reached my ears. The sound of her

conversation was emanating not from one of the buildings, but from

a stone structure near the back wall of the canyon. A now-crumbling

fortress had been built into the rock at some point in the distant past,

but the thin tendril of smoke emerging from one of the more intact

chambers signaled that someone had co-opted the ruins for current

use. I crouched low, belly pressing against the dusty earth, and slunk

up the broken stone stairs.

Solana was speaking rapidly in Spanish. When she paused, a

deep male voice interjected a question. As I drew closer, I caught

Olivia’s scent under the pungent aroma of a large collection of

herbs. After listening for several minutes, however, I still hadn’t

heard her speak or even move and had no way of knowing whether

she was silent because she couldn’t understand the conversation

or if she was somehow in trouble. I crept forward, hoping to catch

a glimpse inside the room, but my paws slipped on shale and

loose stone crumbled down the steps. The voices inside the room

stopped.

In the next moment, Solana was outside the door, regarding

me with her hands on her hips. She had moved more quickly than

a human could, but the dying rays of sunlight played over her face

without inciting a conflagration.

“Your friend Olivia is fine. Miguel removed the bullet, and she

is resting. If you return to two legs, you can see her.”

As much as I wanted the power of my own voice, I wasn’t ready

to trust her. When I shifted back, I would be naked and vulnerable.

I didn’t want to be trapped in a small room where I would be easily

overpowered.

At the sound of my rumbling growl, Solana sighed. “You

require proof? Very well then. Come inside as you are and see that

I’ve kept my word.”

She disappeared, and I cautiously padded after her through an

elaborately beaded curtain and into a small square room. The floor

was covered with brightly colored woven mats, and herbs hung

from the patched roof like alien icicles.

• 87 •

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The man whose voice I’d heard was crouched next to a pile of

blankets on which Olivia lay supine, the white cloth of a bandage

peeking out from under the collar of her sweater. Miguel seemed

unfazed by my approach, but I ignored him until I had reassured

myself that she was breathing. When I finally looked up, he

wordlessly held out a blanket. Apparently, he knew what to expect.

I stretched into the shift, but my panther’s will to remain four-

legged was strong; she felt ill at ease and wanted the protection of

her own teeth and claws. Her reluctance made the transformation

more painful than it had to be, and I leaned hard against the wall

to catch my breath as bright shards of agony seared up my legs and

along the length of my spine.

Solana had taken the blanket from Miguel, and she wrapped

it around my shoulders. I examined her through my own eyes for

the first time and found her beautiful. She was petite of stature, her

delicate frame at odds with the imposing air that surrounded her.

High cheekbones framed her hazel eyes, made darker by the pallor

of her features.

“Impressive,” she said. “I’ve never seen it done with such speed.”

I wasn’t about to confess that at my best, I could shift much

more quickly. Clutching the blanket close, I turned so that my back

was no longer against the wall. “What are you?”

“What do I look like?”

I didn’t want to play these games with her, but I also didn’t

really have a choice. “You move like a vampire.” Her patronizing

smile confirmed my suspicions. “But your scent isn’t right. If you

are really Solana Carrizo the estanciera, you must have been turned

near the beginning of the twentieth century. You shouldn’t be able

to walk in the sun because you must have made the transition long

ago. Unless, that is, you’ve discovered a way to stop it.” I glanced at

Miguel, then up at his collection of herbs. If my hunch was correct,

the flower might be among them. “Or reverse it.”

The smile faded as first surprise and then fear flashed across

her features. In another moment, all emotion was hidden behind a

grim mask. “Olivia claimed you were on some sort of quest, but she

wouldn’t tell me the object. What are you looking for?”

• 88 •

nightrise

It was time to lay all of my cards on the table, and I had to

suppress a shiver at the adrenaline rush that spiked my blood. “We

came here in search of a plant—a flower—with the ability to restore

a vampire’s soul.”

Her lips thinned, but she gave no other sign that my words

had affected her. “That’s quite a bit of power to ascribe to a simple

flower.”

“I can’t be sure of how or if it will work, but I have to try.” I

paused, searching her impassive eyes for some sign of connection

or compassion. “Do you have any information that might help me?”

She regarded me silently then turned and asked Miguel a

question. When he responded in the affirmative, she indicated the

thicker rugs before the crude stone hearth. “Miguel has offered us

the use of this chamber while Olivia recovers. Shall we sit?”

“When will she wake up?”

Solana exchanged a few words with Miguel. “Soon. He gave

her an herbal tincture to render her unconscious while he removed

the bullet, and it should wear off within the hour.”

“Gracias,” I told him, wishing I had better words to express

my gratitude. He nodded, then left the room. I joined Solana at the

hearth.

“I am curious about your motives,” she said. “Most vampires

would never wish to give up the power they have gained in exchange

for freedom from the darkness.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

She turned her gaze on me and settled back against the blankets.

“Tell me your story, and I will tell you mine.”

My story. As I considered where to begin, I felt a sense of vertigo,

as though I were teetering on the edge of a great mental chasm. My

story. Here, now, I was sitting next to a vampire in a tiny Andes

village thousands of miles from the city I called home, which was

itself a thousand miles from the provincial hospital where my mother

had first taken me from the arms of a nurse and smiled and called me

“Alexa.” That moment and this would have been worlds apart if not

for Valentine. She connected the woman in me to the werepanther.

She was my past, and I would fight to make her my future.

• 89 •

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“My lover and I had been together for almost a year when

she was turned by the Missionary,” I began. “At first, she tried to

convince me that we should no longer be together—that she was

too dangerous to me. My blood was powerful enough to stop her

transition, but she was afraid that in a moment of weakness, she

might take too much.”

Solana’s sigh would have been inaudible to human ears, but

it wasn’t to mine. I glanced at her just in time to see a flash of pain

twist her lips. “And did she?”

“We had one very close call. After that, I started looking for a

way to better sustain her. Ultimately, I decided to become a Were. It

took a while before I was able to control my panther while Valentine

fed from me, but eventually I was successful.”

I pressed the heel of one hand to the hollow space that ached

between my breasts whenever the guilt resurfaced. “But then we

spent some time apart. Not because of a disagreement, but because I

had been invited to spend the summer in Telassar. Are you familiar

with it?”

Solana inclined her head. “As familiar as someone who is not

of your kind can be.”

“I knew that us being apart was hard on her, but I didn’t realize

just how hard. And then the whole world went mad, when Balthasar

Brenner destroyed Sybaris and besieged Telassar and released a

shifter virus in New York. My return was delayed.”

An echo of the fear and anxiety that had been my constant

companions in those days must have shown on my face, because

Solana fleetingly rested her hand on my knee. “And so your lover…

grew distant.”

“I got home before it happened, but I was too late to stop it.”

Leaning forward, I held her unblinking gaze and willingly let down

my guard. “At first, I believed that bringing her back would be

impossible. But I think there’s a way, and that you know what it is.

I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes. Please help me.”

She turned away, the tiny muscles along her jaw line twitching

as she stared into the flames. “To understand what you are asking,”

she said finally, “requires me to tell a story that no one else except

• 90 •

nightrise

Miguel has ever heard—Miguel and his father before him, and his

father before him. And now you.

“I was born in 1881 into a family of powerful landowners

just outside Buenos Aires. My parents had no sons, and my father

passed away before his time. He should have named one of my male

cousins his successor, but instead, he named me. One of his last acts

was to write me a letter in which he described the bargain that our

family and others like us had made with a group of vampires. They

protected us and furthered our interests in exchange for blood. We

gave them our undesirables—our thieves and our murderers. It was,

as my father put it, a devil’s bargain. And I inherited it.

“The vampire to whom I answered was named Romero. One of

his younger associates, Helen, saved my life when the head of one

of the other families sought to have me killed, simply for being a

woman. Despite my better judgment, I fell in love with her.”

The air stuttered in my lungs as surprise stole my breath.

“Helen? Helen Lambros?”

“Yes. She has control of the Consortium in New York City

now, or so I’ve heard.”

My brain spun wildly. “She does. I know her fairly well. She

was the one who turned you?”

The corners of Solana’s mouth tightened. “No. But she believed

she had killed me.” At my look of confusion, Solana rose and began

to pace before the fire. “We were happy together for almost five

years. And then, one night, she simply took too much. I will never

know what, if anything, made that night different from any other.

She thought I was dead, but I was only unconscious. When I woke,

Helen was gone. I tried to find her, but overexerted myself and

fainted again. The next thing I can remember is the taste of blood

in my throat and a vampire named Hector standing over me. Hector

was the patron of the powerful Vargas family. He may have saved

my life by turning me, but he should have let me die.”

This was an argument I’d heard from Valentine in the days

soon after she had become a vampire, and I reacted viscerally to it.

“Why would you say a thing like that?”

• 91 •

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Solana remained calm. “Because it is true. In the throes of my

early bloodlust, I killed my mother and the elder of my two sisters.”

She was watching me closely, expecting a reaction of horror

or disgust or both, but I ruthlessly schooled my expression. “I’m so

very sorry.”

“I am the only one to blame.”

Despite having heard only a fraction of the full story, I doubted

that. But I wasn’t about to argue with her—not when we barely

knew each other.

“I fled Argentina then and traveled to England in an attempt to

find Helen. She had owned property there at one time, but I could

find no trace of her and had no way of discovering where she had

gone. After a decade, I stopped looking. After two, I finally returned

home, only to find that Hector had taken control of my family’s

property and had merged our assets with those of the Vargas family.

What’s more, he had indentured my remaining relatives. They were

little better than slaves.

“Hector was powerful and far more experienced than I.

When he almost caught me attempting to free them, I fled to these

mountains to regroup and plan. One day, I was unwise enough to

attempt to feed from Miguel’s grandfather, Rudolpho, who was

gathering herbs in the nearby forest. The curanderos of this region

are very powerful, and he was able to subdue me. Eventually, I told

him my story and he pledged to help me—a promise he fulfilled,

though not as I expected.”

She stopped speaking then and looked over my shoulder. Olivia

was stirring. As we watched, she raised herself up on one elbow,

eyes wide. “Alexa?”

I moved to her bedside and knelt so she didn’t have to crane her

neck. “Hey, Liv. How are you feeling?”

“A little out of it. Shoulder hurts a bit.”

I smoothed her dark hair back from her forehead and reached

down to squeeze her hand. “You’re doing great. You’re going to be

just fine. Miguel took the bullet out.”

“What did he give me?”

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“Passion flower extract,” said Solana. “A natural sedative. You

should feel completely alert within a few hours.”

The anxiety drained from her face, and she relaxed into the

blankets. “Thank you.”

“Can you fall back to sleep?” I asked.

“I might.” Olivia opened her eyes just a sliver, as though her

lids were heavy. “You’ll fill me in later?”

I brushed my knuckles across her forehead. “Promise. You

rest.”

When her breathing became even, I returned to the hearth.

Solana held out a steaming cup of liquid to me. “Maté tea. A

stimulant, though not quite as strong as coffee.”

I took a tentative sip, then another. It tasted like a stronger,

more pungent form of green tea. I looked up at the plants hanging

from the ceiling, wondering which one this was. “You seem to know

quite a bit about these herbs.”

She raised her own cup to her mouth and breathed in the steam

before drinking. “Miguel and his ancestors have taught me well.”

A sudden hunch pushed my heartbeat into overdrive and I

looked up again, squinting into the dark rafters. “Did they give you

the flower? Is it here?”

Solana’s silence was as good as an affirmative. “Tell me,” I

said. “I’ll keep your secret. I swear it.” I was a hair’s breadth from

begging, but my pride had long since ceased to matter.

“Yes,” she finally said. “They gave it to me, and it is nearby.”

She held up her hand. “Let me finish my story, and you will have

your answers.

“When I had secured a promise from Rudolpho to help me free

my family from Hector’s tyranny, I expected him to help me raise

an army. Instead, he took me on a perilous journey to the shore of

the lake beneath the volcano’s summit. We camped there for several

days, until the full moon. As it rose, a plant emerged from the ground

within minutes. It flowered once the moon was free of the horizon.

Miguel’s grandfather pulled it from the ground, broke off its roots,

and commanded me to eat it.”

I was barely breathing. “What happened? What did it do to you?”

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“I fell into a coma for several days,” Solana said. “When I

woke, I was terribly thirsty, but I could bear the sunlight.”

“My God,” I whispered. “It reversed your transition.”

“Yes. Every full moon since that day, I have eaten the roots.

I’ve been able to walk under the sun for almost seventy years.”

My euphoria burst. If Solana needed the roots every month,

none would be left over for Valentine. “What about the stem and the

petals—do they have any of the same properties?”

“They do, to a minor extent. Miguel uses them to create

poultices for several of the ailing members of his community.”

“But can they do what the roots are capable of?”

Solana’s face was troubled as she shook her head. “I don’t

believe so. Miguel will be able to tell us for certain. Perhaps he can

think of a way to extend or duplicate the active ingredient in the

roots.”

I nodded slowly, fighting not to lose hope. Solana shouldn’t

have to give up the flower, but to have come so far—to have actually

found the object of my search only to be thwarted by its singular

nature—seemed cruel beyond measure. Still, Solana had not said

that she would withhold the flower from me, and her willingness

to help seemed genuine. There had to be a way to save Valentine

without damning Solana. I refused to believe anything else.

“Then maybe it’s time to have a talk with Miguel.”

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Chapter NiNe

While Solana went to find Miguel and fill him in on our

discussion, I retrieved my pack from her car and changed

into proper clothes. The night was clear and cool, and the darkness

rivaled that of Telassar. In the absence of light pollution, the sky

was salted with stars in such abundance that it would not have been

difficult to pick out familiar constellations if I had known what to

look for. This hemisphere was utterly foreign to me, and without

the comforting anchor of Polaris pointing north, I felt strangely

adrift.

A smear of light near the western lip of the canyon’s edge

heralded the arrival of the waxing moon. It would be full in five

days. We didn’t have much time, and I had to consider what I would

do if Solana ultimately refused to let me take the flower’s root to

Valentine. Just how far was I willing to go? Even if I could somehow

get to the flower first and steal it away, would I be capable of risking

Solana’s soul to save Val’s?

I shrugged the pack over my shoulders and began the walk back

to the ruins. No. If we couldn’t come up with a solution, I would have

to go back to square one—to wait until Karma’s contacts discovered

another of the flower’s locations. Despair threatened at the corners

of my brain like storm clouds on the horizon, and I quickened my

pace in response. There had to be something we could do, but even

if this was a dead end, I had far from exhausted all of the search

possibilities. I needed to be patient.

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When I slipped inside the stone chamber, Miguel and Solana

were conversing quietly near the hearth and Olivia was propped up

against several pillows eating soup from a ceramic bowl. I set the

pack in the corner and crouched next to her.

“How are you feeling?”

She tried to raise her left hand and grimaced. “Sore. But my

head feels a lot clearer. I guess passion flower extract is potent.”

Guilt reverberated in my chest. “Olivia, I am so sorry.”

She set down her spoon and gripped my hand. “Shut up. I knew

the risks. And you warned me, remember?”

“Even so, I should have been able to protect you.”

“It was an accident. I really believe that. And I’ll be fine.”

She glanced over to Solana and Miguel, who were still deep in

conversation. “So what did you find out?”

I brought her up to speed quickly. “If we can’t figure out a

solution,” I concluded, “I think we’re going to have to start over.”

Olivia frowned. “Even supposing we do find a way, if this

flower is so delicate, how do we preserve it with enough time to get

it to Val?”

I hadn’t thought of that possible complication and was just

about to tell her so when Solana joined us. “Miguel has an idea, but

his proposal is risky on several levels.”

“Tell us.”

“The day after tomorrow, you, Miguel, and I will ascend the

mountain to the place where the flower blooms. When it does,

Miguel will harvest the stem and petals as usual, but he will implant

the root under your skin.”

My panther sprang into action at Solana’s pronouncement, and

I clutched a fistful of blankets for purchase as I mentally held her off.

Olivia’s spoon clattered in the bowl as she pushed herself upright.

“He’s going to do what?” she said.

“Miguel has told me that the flower will flourish until the next

full moon if it is nourished with blood. He believes that by planting

the roots beneath your skin, he will accomplish two things: the

flower will survive, and your blood will absorb its properties.”

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“Its healing properties?” When she nodded, elation swept over

me. “So all I’d have to do is convince Valentine to drink from me?”

“Yes. But while the roots are inside you, you would have to

keep yourself from shifting. Your transformation would destroy the

flower.”

My panther snarled, but I silently reminded her that we had en-

dured much worse. “What about you? How will you get what you

need?”

“For years, Miguel has been encouraging me to test whether I

truly need the flower every month. It may be necessary, but we have

no way of knowing until I stop taking it.”

My head spun with all the possibilities. “And you’re willing to

do that?” I couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “For someone you’ve

never even met? Why?”

She looked at me steadily. “I can never repay my debt to

Miguel’s grandfather, but there are ways in which I can honor

his memory. For years, I’ve protected this village and helped its

inhabitants to develop and thrive. Now I have the chance to do for

your Valentine what Rudolpho did for me.”

“I will always be in your debt,” I said, awed by the magnitude

of her gift.

She waved away my words. “That’s not what I want. But I do

wish to return with you to New York.”

“Because of Helen?”

To my surprise, she flushed and looked away. “In part. But also

because I have been a hermit too long. Battle lines have been drawn

and a conflict is imminent. If there was ever a time for me to return

to the world, it is now.”

For a while, all was silent as I reflected on her reasoning and

she brewed tea over the fire. But soon enough, my thoughts spiraled

back to the flower and its properties.

“Does Miguel think the roots’ effects on my blood will be

temporary?” I asked. “Or will having the flower inside me for a few

days change my blood permanently?”

As Solana conferred with Miguel, Olivia grasped my shoulder.

“I don’t know about this. That plan is sketchy, and the word ‘blood’

has come up too many times.”

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“My blood regenerates when I transform. I’m not worried

about losing a little.”

“That makes one of—”

Solana’s exclamation—a string of Spanish words that seemed

to be invoking a saint—cut Olivia off. She hurried toward us.

“Miguel believes that your Were physiology might magnify the

effects of the flower.”

“Magnify it how?”

“One of two ways. Because your blood already bestows some

measure of regenerative ability to a vampire, it’s possible that when

the flower’s essence enters your vessels it will transform your

circulatory system. In that case, Valentine would be able to keep her

soul with a steady infusion of your blood.

“The other possibility is that the combination will affect her

circulatory system. In that case she could become permanently

ensouled—beyond the risk of transforming back into a full vampire.”

Unable to believe what I was hearing, I leaned back against the

wall. There was a chance that this strange procedure could change

Valentine forever? If her bloodlust became an indulgence rather than

a necessity, she would never again have to feel guilt about feeding

from me.

Firmly, I reined in my hyperbolic thoughts. “Is there also a

possibility that this might fail? That the roots might not survive even

on my blood, or that Valentine won’t be affected at all?”

Solana nodded. “Miguel knows nothing for certain. He is

extrapolating possibilities based on his understanding of the flower.”

“I still don’t like this,” Olivia murmured. “Too many variables.

But I know you’re going to do it anyway.”

“You’re right.” Standing, I met Solana’s eyes. “When do we

leave?”

❖

For the second time since we had left Solana’s Jeep at the base

of one of the trailheads leading up to the lake, the trail led us over

rocks so steep they had to be climbed. Pitons—metal pins used by

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nightrise

rock climbers—had been driven into cracks in the rock faces to

assist our ascent. Solana had said this was the least popular hiking

trail, and I could understand why. She scrambled up nimbly and

I followed her, Miguel bringing up the rear. Olivia had refused to

remain in the village, choosing instead to stay with the car and

within radio distance.

I crested the last rock to find Solana waiting just over the lip.

She handed me a canteen and I drank deeply. The shadows were

growing as dusk fell; Miguel had switched on his headlamp, and

I felt fortunate that my eyes could adjust so completely to the

darkness.

“Not far now,” Solana said. “A kilometer or so.”

I unclipped the radio from my belt. “Olivia, do you read?”

“Loud and clear. Still no hikers behind you. Are you there?”

“Getting close. I’ll call again when we’ve reached the spot.”

As she signed off, I reached down to help Miguel over the lip

of the cliff. This part of the trail was much more reasonable—a

switchback rather than a sheer climb. Ahead of me, Solana moved

confidently. The trail must have been as familiar to her as my daily

walk to Washington Square.

Not for the first time, I wondered whether her trip to New York

would result in some kind of confrontation with Helen. Was Solana

planning to see her? Did Helen even know she was still alive—

that in her panic so many decades ago, she had made a mistake by

leaving? I tried to imagine how I would feel if I were in Solana’s

place. It wasn’t difficult. Valentine had almost pulled a Romeo when

she had believed me dead at her hands, but what if she had left

instead? I couldn’t imagine a reality in which I wasn’t inexorably

drawn to Val. What had changed in the intervening decades to make

Solana keep her distance from Helen, even after she learned where

to find her?

After a series of switches, we scrabbled up one final vertiginous

ascent before emerging onto a narrow ridge. Below us, the surface

of the crater lake gleamed in the dying light, its waters as dark as

an oil slick. The trail continued along the ridge toward the summit,

but Solana led us away into a cluster of pockmarked boulders. She

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pointed, and as I peered over her shoulder, I saw that the rocks

formed a rough circle. In the middle, the earth lay fallow. Not so

much as a strand of alpine grass grew.

“It will bloom there,” she said.

Miguel squeezed into the clearing and removed several items

from a small woven bag: a knife, a trowel, and several small jars.

He called to Solana, and as they conversed, I scouted around the

periphery of the rocks to get the lay of the land. When the full moon

rose, I would shift and hunt as was my biological imperative. But

instead of remaining on four legs until moonset, I would return to

my human form and rejoin Solana and Miguel. He would harvest the

flower and implant the roots, at which point we would immediately

return to the car. Miguel would drive us to Fiambala, where a

chartered plane waited to take us to Buenos Aires. If all went well,

we would be in New York within twenty-four hours.

My panther was the wild card. I had no way of knowing how

she would react to the flower’s invasion of my body and how difficult

it would be to hold her in check. Just the thought of our long return

flight was enough to spike my anxiety, and I focused on taking deep,

steadying breaths.

“Are you all right?” Solana asked. It was a measure of my

preoccupation that I hadn’t heard her approach.

“A little anxious.”

She nodded. In silence, we watched Miguel make his

preparations as night fell over the Andes. Behind the doors of

my mind, the panther paced incessantly, eager to be free. With

Constantine’s help, I had gotten better at managing these hours just

before moonrise when her agitation was greatest and my patience

was thin. But tonight, my trepidation about what the next few hours

might bring made me restless and jittery.

“You never told me the end of your story,” I said to Solana,

hoping to distract myself. “Did you ever have your revenge on

Hector?”

She settled to the ground with her back to stone still warm

from the sun, and I did the same. “I did. But first, I remained with

Rudolpho for many months, readjusting to life in the sunlight and

• 100 •

nightrise

learning about the village and its customs. The Tear of Isis is at the

heart of its healing culture; Miguel’s family has been the flower’s

guardians since time immemorial. I swore to him that I would

protect his people for as many generations as I lived, and he pledged

that his family would sustain me.”

“Do the villagers have many enemies?”

“Not any longer,” Solana said. “But before solar energy arrived,

firewood became scarce in this area—particularly on the Chilean

side of the mountain. There were raids and skirmishes for control

of forested terrain.” Her smile was tight and fleeting. “We always

prevailed.”

I had no doubt that she could be a formidable weapon. “Did

they help you to free your family?”

“No. It was my responsibility alone. I used my ability to move

in the sunlight to infiltrate Hector’s household, and then I killed him.

My younger sister and several cousins returned to the village with

me and lived out their lives in peace.”

As happy an ending as possible, under the circumstances.

But before I could respond, an electric charge shot through me, as

though I had touched a live wire. I was on my feet without having

consciously moved. From the ground, Solana regarded me warily.

“Soon.” I choked out the word as my panther gathered herself.

The western horizon was growing lighter each passing second, the

moon calling to my blood as she called to the tides. Solana joined

Miguel in the middle of the clearing while I stood poised at the edge.

A low hum in my ears, a rush of heat along my spine. My

panther was almost upon me, but wanting to see the flower bloom,

I held her off as long as I could. I felt the moon spring free even as

my pupils registered the increase in light—and in that last instant

of total lucidity, I watched the Tear of Isis rise and unfold from the

earth as though it were a production of time-lapse photography.

The hunger overwhelmed me as my paws found purchase on

the shale, but I turned away from the two humans in the clearing

and scented down the mountain. I ran toward the lake, effortlessly

leaping from boulders to outcroppings, and paused only when I

scented prey. Something canine. Sebastian’s features flashed before

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my mind’s eye, and I growled. Yes, I was more than ready to hunt

something canine.

I began to track the creature, quickly at first, then more slowly

as the scent grew fresher. When I crested a slight rise overlooking

the lakeshore, I caught sight of my prey: a small fox that had

descended to the lake for water. I approached it as quietly as I could,

belly brushing the smooth stones. Only when my crawl scattered an

unstable mound of pebbles did the fox show any sign of alarm. In

another instant, the chase was on; it darted along the coastline before

making a break for the cover of foliage beyond. I unleashed the full

power of my sprint and was on top of my prey within moments.

With one toss of my head, I broke its neck and then gorged myself

on its carcass.

The hunger receded just enough for clarity to return. My feline

instincts urged me to make another kill—to satiate the dull throb in

my belly—but now I was capable of fully asserting my will. I had to

get back to Solana and Miguel.

I leapt from rock to rock, balancing myself easily despite the

precipitous climb. For several minutes, I gloried in the power of this

body—so swift, so strong, so keenly attuned to the natural world.

The breeze carried unfamiliar scents I yearned to discover, and the

unblinking moon urged me to the quest. When I finally slipped into

the clearing, it was with a sense of near-disappointment. Until I

caught the aroma of the flower.

Its scent carried a delicate sweetness, warm and comforting.

Almost, I imagined, the way light might smell. Solana and Miguel

looked wary as I approached, but I paid them no mind. As I crept

closer to the flower, its fragrance enveloped me and a rumbling purr

rose from my throat. The petals were an indefinable shade between

gold and white, and I wanted to touch them—to feel whether their

texture was as soft as it appeared.

I let that urge carry me into my shift until I was crouched

before the flower on two legs instead of four. Gently, I brushed one

of its petals with my index finger. As smooth as satin and soft as

cashmere.

• 102 •

nightrise

“It’s heavenly,” I breathed, surprising myself at the adjective.

Valentine was the one given to hyperbole, not me.

“Perhaps.” Solana seemed to have seriously considered the

notion that the flower had a divine origin. “It is certainly exquisite

to every human sense.”

Once I had dressed, I turned to Miguel. “I’m ready. How do

we do this?”

Solana stepped forward and rolled up my left sleeve past the

elbow while he dug a wide circle around the flower with the trowel.

“He will plant the root here,” she said, tracing her finger along the

long, blue vein that ran along the length of my forearm.

I nodded, fighting back a surge of apprehension by focusing on

my breathing pattern in an exercise Constantine had taught me over

the summer. By the time Miguel beckoned to me, I felt calm again.

Mostly. He looked at me as he spoke, and I waited for Solana’s

translation.

“Miguel is going to make the incision and collect some of your

blood to aid in transplanting the root.”

“Fine.” I had shed blood for Valentine almost every day when

we had been together; a few more drops shouldn’t matter. But my

panther protested otherwise. She had come to understand and accept

Val’s bite as an expression of possessiveness—as an assertion of her

rightful claim as our mate. Miguel’s knife, on the other hand, was

very clearly a threat.

He gestured for me to kneel on the ground across from him just

outside the circle he had made around the flower. He set an open jar

carefully on the ground, and his grasp was gentle as he positioned

my arm above it. With the knife poised against my skin, his eyes met

mine. I nodded.

The knife scored my flesh cleanly, opening a two-inch gash

parallel to my wrist. My panther surged forward at the searing pain,

and I held her back with all my might as Miguel turned my arm

so the dark blood could drip into the jar. I kept my breathing slow

and steady despite the feline thrashing wildly behind my eyes. The

moon called to her still, and she craved the use of her claws and

teeth against this danger.

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To distract myself and her, I focused on following Miguel’s

every movement. Even as my blood continued to trickle into the jar,

he plunged his trowel into the ground with one hand while grasping

the flower’s stem with the other. It came up quickly, as though its

hold on this world was tenuous at best. The dry earth of the mountain

dislodged easily from the shallow root system, the circumference of

which was barely as large as a half dollar coin. With one blow of the

knife, he stripped the stem from the roots and plunged the latter into

the bloodied jar.

The gash had already begun to heal; I could feel and even see my

skin knitting back together hundreds of times faster than a human’s

would have done. After setting aside the stem and petals, Miguel

lifted the dripping root from the jar and ruthlessly pushed it between

the lips of my wound. I clenched my teeth against a scream at the

foreign invasion, and my vision wavered as the panther furiously

pushed for control.

But then Solana’s arms came around my waist, and her cool

cheek pressed against mine, and she whispered soothing words

into my ear while Miguel held the incision closed. Gradually,

the panther’s ferocity subsided until her discontent was only a

background murmur, like the dull throb of my scar. It was a thick

raised line, hot to the touch, at the halfway point between my elbow

and wrist. The sole blemish on my body, all others having been

purged in the conflagration of my shift.

“M-my God,” I stammered suddenly. “I can feel it. It—it’s

moving.” In horrified fascination, I stared down at the writhing skin

of my arm, comforted only by the fact that I could still transform if

necessary.

“That’s a good sign.” Solana released me and bent to lift the

light pack I had carried up the mountain. She briefly conferred with

Miguel. “The movement likely means that it is settling—that it has

accepted your blood as nourishment.”

In awe, I watched until the rippling motion had stopped. My

entire body felt like an active fault line on the brink of slippage. I

had to keep my eye on the prize; by this time tomorrow, I would

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be back in New York. Perhaps even in the same room as Valentine.

Nothing would stand in my way.

“We should go,” I said.

Miguel had already gathered up his supplies, leaving only a

dark circle of recently upturned earth behind him. Solana carried my

pack and her own canteen. There was nothing left for me to do than

lead the way down the mountain.

Soon, I would be in Solana’s car, where I could rest until we

reached Fiambala. From there, we would fly to Buenos Aires and

then on to New York. New York, New York—the syllables hummed

in my ears. Valentine would not be difficult to find. For any other

woman, she might be difficult to seduce.

But Val had always been defenseless against me. And I was

counting on precisely that to save her.

• 105 •

• 106 •

valentine

• 107 •

• 108 •

nightrise

Chapter teN

The chamber felt like the prow of a buried ship jutting out

into subterranean darkness. From my seat at the head of the

conference table, I looked down at the mass of bodies writhing in

time to a beat only they could hear. The soundproofing of this room,

poised three full stories above the dance floor, was complete. As

was its opacity—while I could observe the crowd below in exquisite

detail, the glass windows and floor of my sanctuary were mirrored

so that patrons saw only distorted reflections of themselves.

Of all the many purchases I’d made over the past few months,

this club was the crown jewel. I had named it Tartarus— the Hell

of the Greeks, but to me it was a heaven. Built into an abandoned

subway shaft set deep below Gracie Mansion, the residence of New

York City’s oblivious mayor, Tartarus existed far beyond the reach

of the sun. It was both my fortress and my oubliette. Here in my

inner sanctum, I entertained business partners and culled human

prey from the crowd below.

But tonight, the woman of my choice was not a human. She had

caught my eye from the moment of her entrance. Red hair flowed

down her back like spun copper, and she moved with feline power

and grace that belied her animal half. My throat pulsed greedily.

Weres did not usually offer their blood because most of them didn’t

have enough self-control to overrule the objections of their beasts.

Perhaps this one was different. She had set foot in Tartarus, after

all, and most shifters avoided this place like the plague. Here in

my underworld, they tended to feel claustrophobic and disconnected

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from the elements. Unless, of course, they craved the experience

that only my kind could give them.

“Everything appears to be in order.” The vampire seated to my

right extracted a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and signed the

contract he had been perusing for the past several minutes.

I exhaled softly. The endorsement of my bank by the Sunrunners,

the largest and most powerful of the seven vampire clans, was no

small accomplishment. I stood, crossed to the bar, and poured two

glasses of Armagnac.

“I appreciate your mistress’s business, Bai.”

His grin was sharp. “You say that now. She will make you work

for it.”

I saluted him with my glass. “I’m not afraid of work.”

He moved to the lush divan against the back wall and sat,

casting his arms out wide as though to embrace the masses below.

“Oh? What is it that you fear then, Valentine?”

I sipped at the rich liquid and regarded him impassively. He had

been trying to ferret out personal information all night, doubtless

at the behest of his mistress. Tian, blood prime of the Sunrunners,

was very old and very cunning, but she was also a recluse. Even

Helen, who presided over the Order of Mithras and was a Sunrunner

herself, had never met Tian.

“I fear nothing.”

He cocked his head. “Not even Balthasar Brenner?”

I laughed. “Brenner is a megalomaniac.”

“Who razed Sybaris to the ground. That, at least, must command

your respect.”

I watched the redhead reject the attentions of a tall, dark-haired

man. She sipped at her drink, then turned her face up as though she

could sense my scrutiny. I wondered whether the gravity-defying

architecture of my sanctuary impressed her, or whether she was too

experienced to feel awe any longer.

“Not especially,” I said. “Valois should never have made his

clan so ripe for the pickings.”

Bai let out a low whistle. “You’ve just gravely insulted your

predecessor.”

“He’s dead. Maybe he deserves it.”

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nightrise

Bai fell silent, and I wondered what he would report back

about me to Tian. He probably considered my bad-mouthing the

former blood prime of the clan of the Missionary to be in bad taste,

but I doubted he had any idea how little I actually cared about my

affiliation. My status within the vampire community was just one of

many tools at my disposal and nothing more.

“Those with nothing to fear have nothing to lose,” was all he

said. At his words, the image of Alexa flashed across my mind’s eye

and an echo of her incomparable taste tickled the back of my throat.

I swallowed convulsively, but the sensation was gone as quickly

as it had come. Suddenly piqued, I threw back the rest of my glass

in one burning gulp. Alexa was in South America somewhere

right now with Olivia Wentworth Lloyd. My operatives had been

unable to determine the reason for their trip, and they had reported

that Alexa and Olivia’s relationship remained platonic. Still, the

thought of them together agitated me. I hadn’t yet decided what—if

anything—to do upon their return.

Across the room, the two black and tan Doberman pinschers

flanking the door suddenly rose to their feet. They did not bark

or growl but stood at the ready, ears flicking as they awaited my

command.

I turned toward Bai, who was watching them curiously. “We have

a visitor.” When my phone buzzed, I connected the call. “Darrow.”

“Courier for you, Missionary,” said my secretary. “From

Consortium Headquarters.”

“Who is it?” In the past few months, I had lived through several

assassination attempts. While I would never let Brenner or his

cronies push me to paranoia, I’d learned to be cautious.

“Her name is Giselle.”

I smiled. Giselle was one of the human receptionists at Head-

quarters, and also, I suspected, one of Helen’s spies. Helen had sent

her to me once in the early days just after I’d turned, ostensibly as an

offering of sustenance. Giselle had been a temptation, but at the time,

I had rejected her, preferring instead to bridle my thirst and drink only

from Alexa.

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At the sound of the chime, I moved toward the door. “Stand

down,” I told the dogs, and they immediately settled back onto the

floor—still attentive, but no longer menacing. I pressed a button on

the wall panel, and the door slid aside with a soft hiss to reveal the

epitome of conventional beauty. Tall, blonde, and painfully slender,

Giselle stood outside the door in a low-cut black dress that hugged

her body like a second skin. A silver fur coat was slung over one arm,

and in her other hand, she held a manila envelope. Her eyes darkened

as she took in my appearance—charcoal slacks and a crimson tuxedo

shirt, its sleeves fastened with golden teardrop cuff links.

Her painted lips curved in a sensuous smile. “Hello, Valentine.”

“Giselle.” When I reached for the envelope, she made certain

to brush her fingers over mine as she relinquished it. Flames flared

in my throat. I had yet to taste her, and on a different evening, when

such an intriguing quarry did not await me below, I might have

indulged.

I sliced open the envelope and unfolded the single bone-

colored sheet of paper within. It was watermarked with the crest of

the Sunrunners and embossed with Helen’s personal sigil. The letter

requested my presence in Helen’s office for a brief meeting tomorrow

evening. The agenda was unspecified, and I could think of several

possibilities. Refusal to join her, however, was unthinkable. Even

now, any “request” of Helen’s was nothing more than a polite demand.

When I looked up, Giselle was watching me, one thin eyebrow

arched. “Ms. Lambros asked me to wait for your reply.”

“Tell Helen I’ll be delighted to accept her invitation,” I said,

injecting the words with a sarcastic joviality. Giselle’s laugh was a

pleasant sound, low and rich. “And please feel free to have a drink

downstairs. On the house.”

“Sadly, it’s all work and no play for me tonight.” She turned,

granting me a view of the smooth, pale skin of her back and the

enticing flare of her ass, then looked over her shoulder. “But come

and find me some other time.”

I watched her sashay down the corridor, high heels clicking

provocatively. From behind me, I caught the sound of Bai’s slow

exhale. “If you want her, I’ll call her back.”

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He joined me in front of the door. “No. I was merely

appreciating.”

The planes of his face were sharper than they’d been a moment

ago, as if some internal drawstring had tightened. “Are you thirsty,

Bai?”

“Always.”

I swept my arm through the air, indicating the crush of humanity

in the pit beneath our feet. “Then let us quench that thirst.”

❖

The private elevator from my quarters to the dance floor

descended along a lattice of external cables, its walls reflecting the

multicolored spotlights of the club like a prismatic jewel. When the

doors finally opened, every head was turned toward us. I ignored all

of them but one.

The shifter wore a dark, low-cut blouse with long, ruffled

sleeves. Slacks of matching hue melded to her slender thighs. She

smiled as I approached—the smile of a confident woman comfortable

in the presence of power. I sensed no anxiety from her, which I

found truly remarkable under the circumstances. Even Sebastian, on

the rare occasion when he joined me here, could never quite curb his

instinctual discomfort at being caged so far underground.

I stopped just before our bodies could touch. She was on my

turf, but she too was a predator. This would be a more subtle dance

than usual.

“Let me get you another drink,” I said.

“I’d like that.”

Her words were accented lightly; French, I thought. I gestured

for her to follow and slipped through the crowd to one of the gates

in the bar. When the staff opened it for me, surprise momentarily

crossed the elegant planes of her face.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I assembled ingredients onto

the black marble surface.

“Marcelle.”

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I watched her watch my hands as I poured first absinthe, then

gin, then simple syrup over ice. Lemon juice and an egg white

followed. I shook the mix harder than a human could have, and

when I strained it into a chilled goblet, the cocktail frothed merrily.

“A Parisian Sour.”

She sipped once, then again. “Exquisite. Thank you.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and my gaze was drawn

to blue cord of her jugular pulsing just beneath the skin. Would she

taste anything like Alexa? No one had come close so far, but I had

yet to sample another cat-Were. Anticipation rose in me, a storm

brewing just beyond the horizon.

“Do you tend bar often?” Marcelle asked as I returned to her

side.

“Only when inspired.” I wanted to close the inches between

our bodies but forced myself to remain aloof. To betray the depth

of my thirst would grant her more power than I was willing to give.

“Tell me what brings you here tonight.”

“You.”

Her answer wasn’t surprising; many of the club’s patrons were

trying to attract my attention. The others just wanted a good party.

“And am I what you expected?”

She bridged the gap between us and plucked at the collar of my

shirt with her free hand. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Even her glancing touch was enough to spike both my thirst

and my desire. “If I ask you to dance, will that help you make up

your mind?”

“It might.”

I plucked the drink from her hand and set it on the bar, then led

her out onto the floor where the DJ spun a darkly throbbing beat.

Guiding her arms around my neck, I wedged one thigh between hers

and smiled at her sharp intake of breath. She wanted me already, but

I wasn’t going to show any mercy until she begged.

We danced for what felt like hours, as I lost myself to the

pounding rhythm of the music and the hot pressure of Marcelle’s

body against mine. The fire in my throat echoed in my groin,

fraying the threads of my self-control. Thirst warred with caution

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in my brain; I needed to taste her, but provoking her beast in such a

crowded place would be folly.

When she finally pressed her lips to my neck, I grabbed a fistful

of her thick, wavy hair and jerked her head away. “Tell me what you

want.”

The blue of her irises was nearly eclipsed by black. “Your

teeth,” she panted. “In me. Please.”

I yanked hard, baring her throat to my gaze, and scraped the

delicate vessels with my pointed canines. Her pulse hammered at

my lips, and caution fled. When I finally struck, her blood filled my

mouth as her cry filled the air, only to be lost amidst the cacophony

of the crowd.

I drank deeply and knew disappointment. Her blood was

musky and rich, but she tasted nothing like the sunburst of ecstasy

that was the distinctive essence of Alexa. An unpleasant aftertaste

lingered on my tongue, reminiscent of a cocktail mixed with too

many bitters. Wolfsbane. Marcelle must have taken a small dosage

of the herb to help keep her beast at bay. She had come prepared.

Despite my disappointment, her offering was what my starving

cells craved. I drank deeply of her, and within moments, the world

leapt into sharp relief. Every sound was more nuanced, every detail

crisper. Even my sense of touch was magnified, as though thousands

of new nerve endings had suddenly blossomed beneath my skin.

Marcelle tensed, and I wondered whether her inner beast was

successfully fighting off the wolfsbane. But when I would have

pulled away, she drew me closer with her right arm while her left

hand trailed the length of my torso. Her palm brushed the side of my

breast, and I shivered in the thrall of desire.

And then I felt it—the almost imperceptible sensation of her

body tightening one more notch, like a bowstring on the cusp of

release. As her feet shifted position ever so slightly, the pieces

fell into place. A feline Were who bore a superficial resemblance

to Alexa. Her blunt response to my question about her presence in

Tartarus. She hadn’t been lying; she had come here to find me. But

not because she wanted my bite or my body. Marcelle had come

here to seduce me and then to kill me.

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The world slowed to a crawl as my instincts shifted into

overdrive. I jerked backward, and her knife blade grazed my left

bicep instead of plunging into my chest. The blade scattered the

light from the strobe, and in that instant, I realized how she’d been

able to smuggle it past the metal detectors. Glass.

Snarling, she darted forward and executed a leg sweep designed

to take me to the floor. She was fast, but thanks to her potent blood, I

was faster. I spun away, reaching for the gun concealed at the small

of my back, then drew and fired in the same fluid movement. The

bullet hit her between the eyes and she crumpled to the floor.

Several of the human women screamed. The DJ cut the music.

Someone nearby vomited. My security guards began to converge on

my position, but when I raised my hand, they hung back. Bai stepped

into the ring that had formed around me and Marcelle’s body.

“You’re wounded.”

Blood trickled down my arm, but any pain had been momentarily

eclipsed by the tide of adrenaline that swept through my veins like a

flash flood. “It’s superficial.”

Bai prodded Marcelle’s side with a booted foot. “One of

Brenner’s?”

“No doubt.”

“Do you still think so little of him?”

I laughed. “He failed, didn’t he? For the third time in three

months.” A sudden swell of fury blazed in my chest, and I leaned

over to spit on the corpse. “Though he’s never made it so personal.”

Bai seemed confused, but I didn’t bother to clarify. In this

latest attack, Brenner had done me a service by showing me where

I was still vulnerable. Alexa. He had purposefully sent someone

who would remind me of her in certain ways—someone who would

move with an echo of her grace and confidence. Someone who

would compel me to let my guard down, if only for a moment.

A stinging pain finally filtered into my consciousness, and I

beckoned to the guards who waited to attend me. Only a few stitches

would be needed to close the gash. If I fed well tonight, the wound

would be fully healed within days.

Soon enough, the scar wouldn’t even be visible.

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Chapter eleveN

While the club’s physician sutured the gash in my arm, my

chief of security got a call from Sebastian. Someone had

tipped him off about the assassination attempt, and he was insistent

that I come “home.” To him, home was a brownstone on the Upper

West Side that I had nicknamed “the mausoleum” for its marble

floors, copious sculptures, and Spartan aesthetic. To me, “home”

was a penthouse in Soho with its own swimming pool. Sebastian

didn’t have a key.

Ultimately, it was his promise of new intel on Brenner’s recent

financial transactions that made me accept his offer of a car. When

it pulled up to the curb, he rose from the stoop. Backlit by the

porch light, he cut an imposing figure. Tall and broad-shouldered,

Sebastian wore his hair in a dark, shaggy mane and cultivated a

persistent five o’clock shadow. He looked the part of a Harlequin

romantic hero—a part I had yet to allow him to play.

He grasped my shoulders and looked me up and down. “Thank

God you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. She just scratched me.”

“I told you that place was a death trap.”

Annoyed, I broke his hold. “Only for would-be assassins,

apparently.” As I started up the steps, the door opened from within. I

passed one of Sebastian’s guards and headed directly upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian called after me.

“Shower.” I shrugged off my coat as I walked, refusing to wince

at the twinge of pain from my arm. I turned into the guest room and

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shucked off the sweater I’d put on after throwing my ruined shirt

into the garbage. Sebastian paused at the threshold.

“Why aren’t you using our room?”

My temples began to throb at his proprietary tone. “Because

it’s not our room. It’s yours.”

I walked into the bathroom, finished disrobing, and stepped

into the shower. The sting of the water on my wound was quickly

eclipsed by the sensation of the hot spray raining down on my tense

shoulders. But even over the drumbeat of the water, Sebastian’s

restless pacing outside the door was audible.

“Tell me about this information you have on your father,” I

called. “And by the way, he owes me a new tuxedo shirt.”

“Well, he could buy you thousands with the amount of money

he’s just transferred out of one of his shell corporations in Poland.”

I frowned. “What’s odd about that? He has shells everywhere.”

“But if he’s not shuffling money between them, he always invests

in Were-owned companies. Always. This is the first exception.”

Surprise made me pause, hand poised over the soap. Balthasar

Brenner had several inviolable rules—or so I’d thought. One was

not to patronize any company that was not run by shifters. “Where

did he move the money?”

“A corporation called Solarium with ties to Christopher Blaine.”

I’d heard that name on the news recently. “The politician? The

one who just announced his candidacy for the presidential race?”

“Yes. My father seems to be taking a strong interest in Blaine,

for some reason. His investment in Solarium was huge. I have the

numbers in a spreadsheet if you want to see them.”

“Copy it onto a flash drive for me.”

His pacing stopped. “Do you need any help with your arm? I

could—”

“No.”

If his injured sigh was meant to make me feel guilty, it

didn’t work. When he stalked out of the room, the knot between

my shoulder blades loosened. His misplaced possessiveness was

grating, and it was getting worse. For the first few weeks of our

so-called marriage, he had accepted my distance without complaint.

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Maybe he had thought that if he just gave me space, I’d settle in and

assume some vaguely domestic role in his life.

Tipping my head back, I let the water pound over my face and

trickle between my lips. My throat burned for a hotter and more

viscous liquid. Once I’d gotten the information from Sebastian, I

would seek out some willing human. Giselle’s image flashed before

my mind’s eye—the flawless slope of her neck, the pale perfection

of her skin—and I exhaled sharply as my thirst and desire merged.

Galvanized, I stepped out of the shower, dried off cursorily, and

returned to the bedroom…only to find Sebastian seated on the bed.

His eyes went wide, then darkened.

I reached for my clothes. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen

a naked woman.”

His upper lip curled in a snarl. “I’ve seen plenty, though none

of them have ever been my wife.”

I let my slacks fall back to the bed and squared off with him.

We needed to have this out. Now. “And?”

“And?” The pulse in his neck pounded against olive-toned skin.

“And most husbands get to do a hell of a lot more than look, Val.”

My laughter was incredulous. “Oh yes, there’s nothing

unconventional about this marriage.”

Sebastian stood. He was tall enough to loom over me—

something most men couldn’t do. “I’ve done nothing but try to make

you happy, damn it, and your only response is this antagonism!”

“Happy?” My amusement faded. “I don’t want you to make

me happy. Our marriage doesn’t mean a damn thing, except that

because of it, I finally have access to my fucking inheritance. This

is a marriage of convenience—a business arrangement. Those were

your words when you came to me.”

Sebastian’s breaths were shallow and the tendons in his neck

stood out sharply against his blue oxford shirt. His wolf was close to

the surface, and out of the corner of my eye, I double-checked that

my gun was still on the dresser where I’d left it.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said tightly. “We could have more.”

“More.” Frustration joined the arousal and thirst already

churning in my depths, a braided whip that lashed me into action. I

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let my gaze sweep down his body—from his chiseled jaw, past his

muscular torso, to the bulge in his trousers. Sebastian was aroused.

I would never let him inside me, but if he wanted me badly enough,

he would play by my rules. And I would show him exactly who

called the shots in this farce of a relationship.

I grabbed my bag off the floor and pointed to the four-poster.

“Fine. Take off your clothes and lie on the damn bed. Face down.”

I turned away, but not before watching his jaw go slack and his

eyes glaze. He had no idea what was coming, and that was exactly

how I wanted it. When I returned to the bathroom, I pulled out my

harness and dildo. Many women—especially the straight ones—

wanted to be fucked while I drank from them. This cock was eight

inches long, and as thick as the circle made by my middle finger and

thumb. It matched the shade of my eyes precisely, and I loved the

way it glistened as I rhythmically pumped it in and out of my prey.

Once I had adjusted the harness, I liberally coated the dildo

with lube, then turned to admire my reflection. My cock stood

out proudly from the thick black straps. It curved slightly toward

my stomach, calling attention to my rippled abdominal muscles. I

smoothed one hand across my breasts, then down to the juncture of

silicone and leather. I pressed in lightly and watched my own eyes

grow hazy.

“Val?”

The uncertainty in Sebastian’s voice brought a sharp grin to

my lips. When I stepped into the bedroom, I saw that he had mostly

obeyed me; he was naked and on the bed, but lying on his side with a

clear view of the bathroom door. I paused for a moment to examine

him with a clinical eye. He was a fine specimen, I supposed, for

those who liked their men rugged. Dark hair dusted his legs and

abdomen—a finer coat than I’d anticipated. His penis was fully

erect, long and thick and glistening.

“What the hell?” Surprise and anger warred on his patrician

features.

I held his gaze without flinching. “This, or nothing.”

The spasmodic working of his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s

apple—I watched his body betray desire while his mind rebelled.

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But his internal struggle was gratifyingly brief. When he remained

silent, I knew. And I smiled.

Sebastian watched my approach, craning his neck to keep me

in his sightline as I ascended the bed. I gripped his waist and pulled

him up onto his knees, then grasped the back of his neck with one

hand. Adrenaline sang through my veins at his submissive posture—

at the swiftness of his pulse against my fingertips and the quiver that

ran through him when my cock brushed against his thigh. I steadied

it against him, waiting for his control to break. When I dug my blunt

nails into the skin just above his collarbone, a guttural sound rose

from his throat.

I thrust my hips forward even as I pulled him flush against my

pelvis. His shout was strangled as my cock slid deep inside; his body

jerked, but I held him fast. Obscenities spilled from his lips and grew

louder as I twined his hair around my fingers. I yanked, bringing

his head up off the mattress. In one smooth movement, I withdrew

almost completely, then surged forward again. He groaned, fingers

scrabbling for purchase on the blanket.

I set up a steady rhythm and worked my cock in and out of him

slowly, precisely. He grunted with every thrust and moaned when

I scraped my nails down his back. The power I held over him was

intoxicating, and pleasure skittered beneath my skin like showers

of sparks.

“Do you like being fucked by your wife, Sebastian? Is this what

you wanted? I don’t think it is, but you’re damn good at taking it

from me.”

“Fuck. You. Val,” he managed, the words escaping between

tightly clenched teeth.

I laughed. “Sadly, you’ll never get the chance.”

I sped up then, until his body was quivering beneath me. He

was close, but he probably couldn’t come this way and I wanted to

make him lose control completely. I leaned over him until my lips

nearly touched his ear.

“Go ahead. Jerk yourself off.”

The moment he touched himself, his back arched like a bow. He

hung poised there, taut and trembling, for one glorious moment—

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then released with an agonized roar. I sank my teeth into the muscle

between his neck and shoulder, nearly coming myself when his

blood filled my mouth. He tasted like musk and wood smoke, and I

drank deeply as he climaxed.

Spent, he pitched forward onto the bed, limbs twitching. There

wasn’t much time before the inevitable happened, and I had to move

quickly. I unbuckled the harness and let it fall to the floor, then

gathered up my clothing and grabbed my gun and the flash drive

from the dresser. Slinging my bag over one shoulder, I spun toward

the door. Sebastian’s harsh breaths had already morphed into snarls.

I had summoned the beast with my bite and there was nothing he

could do to prevent his wolf from ascending.

As the seizures began to flay him apart, I stepped naked into the

hall. I paused just long enough to pull on my clothes before swiftly

descending into the foyer.

“You have a problem in the guest room,” I told the guard who

stood just inside the front door. Whether he blanched at the sight of

my blood-stained lips or the unearthly howl that suddenly erupted

above our heads, I couldn’t be certain. Cursing, he ran up the stairs,

calling into his wrist mic for backup.

I stepped out into the wintry air, arm already raised for a cab.

The night was still young, and I had work to do.

• 122 •

nightrise

Chapter twelve

I instructed the cabbie to drop me off at the side door of the

Bank of Mithras. Floodlights illuminated its gleaming marble

edifice, but the small lobby was dark—closed, by all appearances,

when in fact the bank’s underground level was open to business

for our nocturnal clientele. We maintained a fully operational

storefront during the daylight hours, but vampire customers now

overwhelmingly outnumbered the humans. Even some shifters had

decided to open accounts, though they were few and far between

now that Balthasar Brenner had rekindled the tension between our

species.

The side door was monitored by a keypad, and only vampire

clients and staff had the clearance to enter. Once inside, I rode an

elevator down to the heart of the bank. I could have entered my office

suite directly from the street via a service entrance at the back of the

building, but I wanted to put in an appearance on the subterranean

lobby floor. It was good for clients and employees alike to see me

taking an active interest in daily business, especially since word of

the attack at Tartarus would have gotten out by now.

When the doors opened, I stepped out onto the polished floor

and was greeted by a smattering of applause. I allowed myself a faint

smile, but didn’t linger. To the right of the tellers, Kyle sat at a large

desk that guarded the first of several doors to my office. He leapt to

his feet when he saw me, but at my warning glance he said nothing.

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I gestured for him to follow and led him into the antechamber where

visitors who required my personal attention waited before I called

them into my office. The room was empty, and as soon as the door

closed behind us, Kyle freaked out.

“Oh my God, Val, are you all right? What happened? Everyone

is saying Balthasar Brenner sent a team of assassins to the club and

you took them out like—”

I cut him off before he could launch into whatever elaborate

simile the rumor mill had concocted. “There was one. She’s dead.

I’m fine, and we have work to do.”

His mouth closed with a click. “How can I help?”

Kyle’s puppy-like loyalty was his best attribute. I was gratified

to see that he hadn’t lost it upon being turned, though it might well

disappear when he became a full vampire. But that was still months

away.

“I want to know everything there is to know about Christopher

Blaine’s personal life. Dig, and come back with what you’ve found

well before sunrise. I don’t want to have to stay here all day.”

He paled at the magnitude of my order but only nodded. “One

other thing,” I said as he turned to leave. “Tell McMahon I want to

see her immediately.”

Two years ago, Bridget McMahon, buy-side analyst for

Goldman Sachs, had been out celebrating the magnitude of her

bonus check when she had stumbled into the wrong club and been

turned. Last month, I had hired her to head up the Bank of Mithras’s

research department. I wanted the bank to move beyond its humble

beginnings as a simple savings and loan operation, and Bridget’s

guidance would be instrumental.

After informing her that I needed a preliminary report on the

status and operations of Solarium before my meeting with Helen

tomorrow night, I dismissed her and turned to my latest project:

raising enough capital to create Mithras Brokerage Services—a

separate wing of the bank devoted to investment banking. Vampires

whose lives spanned centuries shouldn’t, I argued to would-be

investors, feel at the mercy of human investment strategies. By

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studying long-term market trends with Bridget, I had already begun

to draw conclusions about how to most effectively invest my clients’

substantial funds for the long haul.

Sunrise was just over two hours away when Kyle returned

brandishing a flash drive. Within moments, I was looking at a

photograph of Christopher Blaine, seeming every inch the corporate

mogul turned slick politician as he addressed a large crowd at a

charity benefit. Kyle ran me through the facts: his single mother,

his Harvard education, his early positions within the business

development branch of a now-defunct pharmaceutical company,

his rapid ascent up the promotional ladder when his employer was

bought out by Solarium. The New York Post had named Blaine

one of the “most eligible bachelors” of last year, but otherwise, his

personal life was a black box. Kyle had found vague rumors of a

supermodel girlfriend, but the only available photographs of Blaine

pictured him with his immediate family. Kyle was scrolling through

them when I recognized one of the faces.

“Stop!” Palms planted on my desk, I rose to my feet and leaned

forward to scrutinize the face of a blond woman, probably in her

mid-thirties, wearing a cap and gown. The stole around her neck

indicated some kind of graduate degree. Blaine was the only other

person in the picture; his hand rested on her shoulder.

I recognized the woman because Balthasar Brenner was her

father. She was one of over a dozen shifters whom Helen had

imprisoned at Consortium Headquarters during the virus outbreak

in August. I had never learned her name.

“Who is that?”

Kyle riffled through his notes. “Her name is Annabel Surrey.

Blaine’s sister.”

“Half-sister?”

“I don’t know. He’s twelve years older than her, so that seems

likely.”

I sat and gestured for Kyle to do the same. “And you found no

evidence that he’s a shifter?”

Kyle looked startled. “No, but that wouldn’t exactly be a matter

of public record.”

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“Is his mother alive?”

“No. She died in a car accident two years ago.”

I propped my feet on the desk and leaned back in my chair. I

wouldn’t have pegged Balthasar Brenner as the kind of person to

care about the half-sibling of one of his many whelps, but perhaps

Annabel had persuaded him to invest in her brother’s company. Then

again, the last time I’d spoken with Annabel, she had called her

father a “megalomaniacal tyrant.” She could have been posturing,

but her vehemence had seemed quite genuine.

“Nice work,” I told Kyle. “I need to call Sebastian and then I’ll

be home for the day.”

Once he had left the room, I dialed Sebastian’s cell. When he

didn’t pick up, I tried his office at Luna and was greeted by his

secretary—a young werewolf who clearly had the hots for him and

not-so-subtly disapproved of our marriage. That was probably why

I liked her.

“Hello, Christina.”

“Ms. Darrow, Mr. Brenner has instructed me not to put you

through to him today,” she said haughtily.

I laughed. “Well, isn’t that mature? You tell him that when he’s

done throwing a tantrum he should call me back. I have information

about a person of interest.”

“I’ll most certainly let him know.” She sounded like a stuck-

up automaton, and I could practically see her expression of distaste

simply at having to exchange words with me.

“You have an excellent day, Christina,” I said, but she had

already hung up.

Perhaps I should have told her exactly how much her boss had

enjoyed himself earlier this evening, but that would have been cruel,

and I wasn’t given to schadenfreude. Emotional displays were self-

indulgent. Expedience was my only governing principle now.

❖

An hour later, I had just arrived home and was about to wade

into my hot tub when a call came in from the concierge of my

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building. When he announced that Pritchard Darrow was there to

see me, I scowled and retied my terrycloth robe.

“Fine, let him up.”

While I waited, I mixed a very strong martini. Civil conversation

with the most arrogant of my cousins always required a drink.

Pritchard was like a small splinter—irritating but not dangerous—

and he’d been beneath my skin ever since I’d come out as a lesbian.

After years of being on the receiving end of his gibes, insults, and

practical jokes, I wanted nothing to do with him. But ever since I’d

taken over Darrow Savings and Loan, he had been pestering me in

a different way. I’d been staving off his requests for an appointment

for several weeks now, and apparently he had decided to take matters

into his own hands.

Three months ago, my father had given Pritchard a nascent

hedge fund like other uncles might give their favorite nephew season

tickets. Pritchard’s braggadocio had tripled even as he immediately

began to run the fund into the ground. Sloppy research led him to

choose terrible investments that nearly always went south. The

company was barely keeping its head above water, and I suspected

he wanted some kind of a loan from me.

“Oh, how the high-and-mighty hath fallen,” I muttered at the

chime of the doorbell.

Pritchard was one of those almost-handsome, ex-football

players who wore an obviously expensive suit that failed to hide

his growing gut. He blinked in consternation when I greeted him

in just my robe, but dutifully followed me into the kitchen when

I offered him a drink. Apparently, breakfast martinis were par for

the course.

“Fuck, it’s gloomy in here,” he said as he awkwardly perched on

one of the bar stools. “How about cracking a curtain or something?”

“I’d rather not.” Even the suggestion of sunlight sent a chill

through me, but I carefully modulated my voice to mask my anxiety.

“Headache.”

He leered at me. “Rough night?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

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When I handed over his martini—made with my third best

gin—he swigged half of it down in one uncouth gulp. “So I’m glad

I finally caught you. I have a proposition.”

I waited for his pitch speech, struggling not to roll my eyes as

he chugged the rest of the drink.

“BlueFin has made some exciting investments recently, but

they’re going to take a few years to really pay off. As a result of

recent market downturns, we’re struggling at the moment.” He took

a deep breath and looked me—his carpet-munching cousin—in the

eyes. “I’d like you to consider coming on board.”

I almost laughed in his face. He wanted a bailout but was

couching it in terms of a stake. I pretended to ponder his request,

when really I was trying to figure out whether I could pull off a

takeover. It wasn’t easy to arrange a coup on a hedge fund, but it

could be done. As far as I was concerned, why should I buy into

BlueFin when I could simply buy it?

“Send your proposal to my analyst,” I said, grabbing one of my

business cards and writing Bridget’s name on the back. “She and I

will look it over together.”

Only when relief suffused Pritchard’s face did I realize just

how anxious he’d been. BlueFin’s situation must be worse than I

suspected.

“I’ll do that right away, Val,” he said, already moving toward

the door. “You take care. I’ll be in touch.”

When he let himself out, I wondered whether I was throwing

off some kind of frightening predator vibe that made him want to

keep his distance. Then again, maybe he was just worried about

catching the gay. Or maybe he found me disconcertingly hot in only

my bathrobe. God only knew. I was just glad to be rid of him.

I sent Bridget a quick message telling her to expect Pritchard’s

files, then untied my robe and let it fall where I stood. As I eased

myself into the hot tub, I only noticed the sting of my wound as

an afterthought. Even that small infusion of Sebastian’s blood had

galvanized my healing process.

I leaned back against the edge and submerged myself up to

my chin, feeling the night’s tension slowly drain from my neck. Of

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course, if I had been able to drink from Alexa I would be whole

by now. Feeding from Sebastian may have taken the edge off, but

Alexa had always fully satisfied me.

As I gazed at the shadowed ceiling, I wondered where she was

right now, and whether she ever regretted her choice. My craving

for her blood and her body had never diminished, but now, I was

strong enough not to need her. The old Valentine had been weak

and pitiful, desperate and needy. Afraid of her thirst—afraid that in

letting Alexa see her need, she would drive her away.

I felt only contempt for my old self. Now, I feared nothing.

Now, my thirst had no power because it had no chains.

Now, when I wanted something, I took it.

• 129 •

• 130 •

nightrise

Chapter thirteeN

When I walked into Consortium headquarters the follow-

ing evening, Giselle was sitting at the front desk. As I

approached to say hello, I couldn’t help but appreciate her low-cut

and nearly sheer blouse. She caught me looking.

“Do you like it? I wore it for you.”

“I’m willing to bet you say that to all your admirers.”

She arched one thinly-plucked eyebrow. “Is that what you are?

My admirer?”

I flashed my sharpened teeth in a smile and walked toward

the bank of elevators. When I reached Helen’s office, Constantine

Bellande and Karma Rao were just leaving. Constantine’s eyes

narrowed when he saw me, the muscles along his jaw line bunching

ominously. The last time I’d been in his presence, before my split

with Alexa, he had greeted me with cheek kisses and a handclasp.

His changed demeanor was interesting. I knew he and Alexa had

grown close, but I hadn’t realized that he felt so protective of her.

Karma, on the other hand, showed no emotion—but that was itself

indicative of her disapproval.

“Hello, Valentine,” she said coolly.

“Karma. Constantine. How is Malcolm?”

“No change.” She brushed past me. “We’re running late to

another appointment. If you’ll excuse us.”

Unperturbed by their chilly reception, I passed through the

open door of Helen’s antechamber to find her seated at her desk,

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framed by the glittering skyline of Long Island City. Unlike most

of the windows in this building, Helen’s were not equipped with

voluminous blackout curtains. Her windows had been painstakingly

treated with a complex mixture of chemicals that not only blocked

the sun’s UV rays, but also filtered the visible spectrum in certain

ways. I didn’t fully understand the physics of it, but the end result

was that Helen could sit in this office during the day. What I hadn’t

realized until recently was that the window treatment alone did not

give her that ability. Members of the Sunrunner clan, I had learned

while researching them prior to my talks with Bai, possessed an

increased resistance to the damaging effects of the sun.

The sub-species of parasite that had transformed my circulatory

system gave me a greater degree of strength and speed, but no such

resistance. If I walked out into the sunlight tomorrow morning, I

would develop gamma radiation burns within a matter of seconds

and my internal organs would liquefy shortly thereafter. If I took a

meeting in Helen’s office during broad daylight, on the other hand,

I would be able to last for several minutes before developing severe

sunburn and nausea.

The Sunrunners’ increased resistance made them valuable

ambassadors and spies, and they cultivated an air of superiority at

being “evolutionarily superior.” But I gloried in the physical power

and precision granted by my parasite and wouldn’t have traded

those abilities away for the world.

Helen embraced me lightly. “I hear congratulations are in

order,” she said, gesturing for me to sit as she closed the door. In a

double-breasted charcoal jacket and matching skirt, she was even

more formally attired than usual. “I met with Tian’s delegation a few

hours ago, and Bai informed me of your mutual success in closing a

deal. He seemed particularly impressed with you.”

In the not-so-distant past, a meeting with Helen Lambros—

Master vampire of New York and head of the Order of Mithras—

would have made me nervous. Now, I relaxed into the leather chair

and crossed one leg over the other.

“Was he more impressed by my financial proposal or my

marksmanship?”

• 132 •

nightrise

Her smile twisted, and for one fleeting moment I caught

a glimpse of the fiery rage that churned beneath her composed

exterior. Balthasar Brenner’s guerilla tactics were the thorn in her

side; in a matter of months, he had destabilized the alliance she

had so carefully cultivated over decades. Unable to ferret out his

location, all she could do was anticipate his attacks and react when

they occurred. Such forced passivity had to rankle with her.

“We are all relieved that you were able to neutralize last night’s

threat so quickly,” she said. “Bai mentioned your injury. How is

your arm?”

I flexed my biceps and felt only a twinge. “Almost fully healed.”

“Good.”

Before she could steer the conversation to her reason for calling

me in, I took the initiative. “Are you familiar with Christopher

Blaine?”

If the non sequitur confused her, she didn’t let on. “The human

politician?”

“That’s actually my question. Is he human, or a shifter?”

Helen seemed genuinely taken aback, which was extraordinary.

“Do you have a compelling reason to suspect that he is a Were?”

I briefly summarized the information Sebastian had discovered

about his father’s recent financial transactions. “And Blaine’s sister

is one of Brenner’s children. She was among those interrogated last

summer. Blaine is significantly older than her, so I suspect she’s a

half-sister from after their mother was turned, but that’s still just a

theory.”

“Find the truth,” Helen said. “And keep an eye on Blaine. If

you need Leon’s people, let him know.”

Leon Summers was the head of her intelligence force. Even

if I had wanted to involve him, I wouldn’t have. He had far too

much on his plate right now. After Brenner had nearly succeeded

in assassinating Malcolm, Helen’s safety had become even more

critical. In conjunction with Devon Foster, Helen’s head of security,

Summers had been spending every waking moment identifying

and neutralizing threats while also trying to track down Brenner’s

precise whereabouts.

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“I’m glad you brought this to my attention,” Helen continued,

“but I invited you here to discuss another matter: your Missionary

work.”

“Oh?” I kept my tone casual but mentally prepared myself for

a dressing-down. Helen didn’t use words like “invited” or “discuss”

in a conversation with one of her underlings unless she was about to

take them to task.

“I don’t think I have to tell you, Valentine, just how important it

is that your clan survive. Balthasar went to great lengths to eradicate

the Missionary’s line, and it is imperative that we actively work to

regain what we lost in the razing of Sybaris.”

Her use of “we” made me want to laugh in her face. As both the

Missionary and the blood prime—roles that had defaulted to me as the

only surviving member of my clan—I was expected to go on some

kind of crusade to turn as many humans as possible. Instead, I had been

highly selective about whom I’d “converted” over the past few months.

“Your clan is on the verge of extinction. We must choose strong

and powerful targets for your efforts if we are to rebuild effectively.”

She slid a sealed manila envelope toward me. “Enclosed are some

recommendations.”

I opened the envelope. Inside, a single sheet of paper contained

over a dozen names and addresses. Many of them were my peers—

the young, well-connected potential movers and shakers of the next

generation. And suddenly, I saw this scene as it must have looked

two years ago—my hulking predecessor sitting in this very chair,

perusing Helen’s list of recommendations. My name had been on

that list. I knew that now. My name and Olivia’s name.

Once, I would have flown into a rage. Now, I forced myself to

betray no emotion despite the thundering of my heart and the red haze

that had fallen over my vision. In the months since I had become the

Missionary, I had turned exactly two people: Kyle and Tonya, both of

whom were humans who worked at Consortium headquarters and had

routinely offered their blood as nourishment. Their most fervent wish

had been to one day become vampires themselves, and I had obliged

them. I had no intention of ever turning anyone who was unwilling.

“I’ll see what I can do,” was all I said.

• 134 •

nightrise

Helen held my gaze silently, her eyes searching mine. She

wouldn’t find any answers there. I had buried my fury deep. Perhaps

she had preferred me when I was more volatile, more malleable, but

I would never let her control me again.

“Good.” She stood and I followed suit. “Take care of yourself,

Valentine.”

“And you.”

The effort of reining in my temper made me restless, and my

throat pulsed with a matching fire. Wanting to burn off some energy,

I took the stairs all the way down to the lobby. When I emerged near

the front desk, Giselle turned at the sound of the stairwell door.

“Is something wrong with the elevators?”

“No. I needed the exercise.”

She looked me up and down, her gaze openly lascivious. “I

don’t think so.”

I laughed and, miraculously, the tension in my chest eased.

“That’s not how I meant it.”

“Oh?”

She was a captivating sight; her golden hair shone in the

lamplight, and her lustrous ruby lips were parted in anticipation of

my reply. Lust joined the thirst that parched my mouth. I no longer

had any reason to resist my own needs, and I was not going to let

Helen dictate my choices. Giselle was not on Helen’s precious list,

but tonight, she would join the ranks of the ageless if she so desired.

I moved close enough to edge one hip up on the desk. “I want

you to have dinner with me.”

Her smile was triumphant. “Where?”

If it might be her last human supper, I wanted it to be one of the

best. “Jean Georges. When can you leave?”

“Soon. I just need to call for a replacement here.”

I settled into one of the chairs in the nearby reception area. “I’ll

be waiting.”

❖

Hours later, Giselle lit a cluster of candles at her bedside while

I drew the curtains across her window. Her apartment was small but

• 135 •

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elegantly decorated—a far nicer place than most receptionists in this

city could afford. I wondered if it felt like a gilded cage, and whether

she wanted her freedom.

I sat on the bed and she sashayed forward to stand between

my legs. But when she began to undo my shirt buttons, I stilled her

hands.

“What has Helen promised you?”

Giselle slipped her fingertips beneath my collar and stroked

lightly. “She promised to make me one of you, in exchange for my

loyal services.”

Just as I’d suspected. “Did she give you a time frame?”

Her fingers stilled. “I never dared to ask.”

I touched her then, cupping her waist and sliding my thumbs

along the flat plane of her stomach. Beneath the silken fabric of her

dress, I felt her tremble.

“If you had the power to decide, when would you choose?”

A tiny frown line materialized on the bridge of her nose as she

searched my face. “Now. I would choose now.”

“Why?”

She pulled back and walked to her window. Drawing the

curtain, she stared out at the small slice of cityscape in her view.

“I’m young. I’m beautiful. Isn’t it every woman’s dream to

freeze herself at this moment?”

I kicked off my shoes and reclined on the bed. “Not when the

price for doing so is eternal darkness and unquenchable thirst.”

She turned to face me. “I’m not some naïve human who thinks

vampires are a pretty myth. I’ve been on the other side of that thirst

enough times to understand it.”

“You can never understand it,” I said softly, “until you’ve felt

it yourself.”

“Then let me. I’m ready. I want this—more than I’ve wanted

anything.”

She sat on the bed and I propped myself up against the pillows.

I traced my thumb along the line of her jaw until I reached the corner

of her mouth. When her tongue flicked against my skin, I inhaled

sharply. She smiled.

• 136 •

nightrise

“Helen will be angry with you,” she said.

“It won’t be the first time.”

She sucked the tip of my thumb into her mouth and swirled her

tongue. I shuddered, desire pulsing between my thighs in time with

the thirst that pulsed in my throat. But I had to keep a clear head for

a few moments longer.

“If you do this for me,” Giselle said, “I’ll serve you forever.”

“That’s not how it works.” I pulled away just enough to cup her

face. “You won’t ever be a servant. But you will come and work for

me at the bank—or anywhere else I might need you.”

She rose onto her knees and moved until she was straddling my

lap, then guided my hands to her breasts. When I stroked her ever so

gently, her body quickened beneath my touch.

“I will be loyal to you,” she pledged breathlessly. “Always. I

swear it.”

I leaned forward to kiss her, sealing her words between us.

When I made my touch firmer, she gasped into my mouth. Within

moments, her dress was on the floor, and my shirt and slacks

followed soon after.

I laid her back on the cool sheets and covered her body with

my own, exulting in the softness and heat of her skin against mine. I

stirred her passion with deep kisses even as I drove her relentlessly

toward climax with my touch. For minutes, I held her on the edge

of abandon and teased the racing pulse in her neck with my tongue.

And then, when her begging became incoherent, I claimed her.

Giselle’s blood was reminiscent of sweet vermouth, and I drank

until my world was sparkling clear and hers went dark. As soon as I felt

the slackness in her muscles that belied her slip into unconsciousness,

I withdrew my teeth and set them to my own wrist. My skin to hers,

my blood joining her veins, my parasite colonizing her cells.

Once I had ensured the mingling of our blood, I got to my feet

and went in search of my phone. I prided myself on being adept

at walking the line between leaving my so-called victims strong

enough to fight off the parasite, and draining them to the point of

death. Still, to be safe, I wanted Giselle to have medical attention

tonight.

• 137 •

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After arranging for one of the Consortium physicians to

transport her to the hospital wing of Headquarters, I dressed both

myself and her limp body. Her pulse remained slow and steady, but

I monitored her closely as I waited for the emergency team to arrive.

Giselle’s surrender to my touch and my teeth had temporarily sated

my thirst and my desire, and now that I could think clearly again, I

turned my mind to the intricacies of how I might yank Pritchard’s

hedge fund out from under him.

Within the hour, I was sitting in my office with Bridget where

she and I began the process of scrutinizing the spreadsheets Pritchard

had sent over that morning. After projecting them onto the plasma

screen, she and I combed through his numbers and debated a course

of action.

“There’s no way he can survive for another month on his own,”

Bridget concluded. “What do you think of his deal?”

Pritchard had taken the liberty of including a proposal with

his data—a deal to bring me in as a thirty-percent partner of his

earnings in exchange for a loan that would allow him to meet his

next two quarters’ worth of client payouts.

“I think I don’t want thirty percent. I want one hundred.”

Bridget pushed her glasses up on her nose, a small bit of body

language that I had learned meant she was deep in thought. She didn’t

need the glasses, of course. All vampires had perfect vision. But she

claimed that wearing them made her better able to concentrate—

some sort of Pavlovian association from her days as a human.

“We could play stall ball,” she said. “While reaching out to his

investors behind his back.”

I leaned back in my chair and considered her plan. If we

pretended to go along with Pritchard’s proposal but deliberately

threw up roadblocks to the deal’s closure, we could drag out the

proceedings for at least a month. In the meantime, we could contact

Pritchard’s investors—all of whom were wealthy individuals who

would not enjoy being associated with a bankrupt hedge fund—and

persuade them to force Pritchard out of power.

“I like that idea.”

When she took off her glasses and smiled, Bridget looked more

like the dangerous predator she truly was. “I thought you might.”

• 138 •

nightrise

“So tomorrow,” I began, plotting our next moves as though I

were sitting before a chess board, “you’ll call Pritchard and propose

a counter-offer.”

“Of course.” Bridget’s eyes twinkled. “The negotiations could

take days and days.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.”

After she left, I decided a celebration was in order. I had likely

succeeded in turning Giselle, which would send a message to Helen

about just how little I appreciated her interference in my affairs.

Now, I had a solid game plan for acquiring a hedge fund while

simultaneously avenging myself on my bully of a cousin. Not a bad

day’s work. But as I was pouring myself a glass of Macallan 30,

Sebastian called.

“I’m returning your message from yesterday,” he said tersely.

“How very kind of you.”

He ignored my mocking tone. “What do you have on Blaine?”

“His sister is Annabel Surrey,” I said, wondering whether he

would make the connection.

“That can’t be right. Annabel Surrey is one of my half-siblings.

We met in—”

“In August at the Consortium. I know. Apparently, Blaine is her

older brother, twelve years her senior.”

“How is that possible? He’s not a Were.”

“Are you sure?” I shot back. “In any case, I’m looking into it.

I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.”

“Fine. Good.”

At the beep in my ear, I glanced down at my phone’s display to

find Helen’s name blinking at me. Was she already calling to berate

me for turning Giselle?

“I have a call on the other line,” I said, and before he could

protest, I had switched over. “Hello, Helen.”

“Valentine.” Her voice was taut, fairly vibrating with tension.

“Are Bai and the rest of the delegation with you?”

The unexpected question drove any calculated replies from my

head. “With me here at the bank? No.”

“Very well. Thank—”

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“Tell me what’s happened,” I said before she could disconnect

the call.

“They haven’t checked in with their driver, who was supposed

to pick them up half an hour ago, and I can’t reach any of them by

phone.”

She did hang up then, and I was left to speculate about their fate

to myself. All I could be sure of was that if foul play was involved, so

was Balthasar Brenner. Immediately, I called in my head of security,

a vampire named Caleb Lee who had been Sebastian’s head vampire

bouncer at Luna prior to coming to work for me. As a human,

Caleb had been a federal marshal, and he was well connected as a

result. Sebastian had let him go with regret after Caleb himself had

pointed out that the recent resurgence in tension between Weres and

vampires meant that his presence as club security was putting most

of Sebastian’s clientele on edge instead of making them feel safe.

Unlike his shifter counterparts, Caleb was slender and of

average height—not the kind of person traditionally associated

with security work. But he had five different kinds of black belts,

and he moved faster than anyone I’d ever seen—including myself.

As he sat in the chair Bridget had vacated, I slid a photograph of

Christopher Blaine across my desk.

“I need you to put tails on this man. They have to be invisible

and unshakeable.”

“Christopher Blaine.” If Caleb was surprised, he didn’t sound

it. “He’ll be well-protected. How close do you want me to get?”

“Close. I have reason to believe that Balthasar Brenner might

try to get in touch with him, and if that happens, we might finally be

able to get a drop on the bastard.”

Caleb’s expression never changed, but a telltale flush rose

along his neck. He wanted Brenner’s head, and I didn’t blame him.

Every vampire felt that way, ever since he had nearly extinguished

an entire clan and tried to turn the shifter population against us.

“This might get expensive,” was all Caleb said.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled for the first time since

Helen’s call. “Then it’s a good thing I own a bank.”

• 140 •

nightrise

Chapter FOurteeN

Three nights later, I was in a follow-up meeting with Bridget

about the status of her negotiations when Kyle called from

the front desk with the news that Caleb needed to see me. Urgently.

When I greeted him at the door, his smile was grim and his eyes

glittered like mica chips.

“We’ve got him,” he said as soon as we were alone in the

privacy of my office.

“Brenner? You’ve located him already?” I had never expected

a payoff this soon.

Beneath his triumph, Caleb seemed as incredulous as I was. “In

a matter of days, we’ve done what Summers has been unable to do

for months. How the hell did you know to watch Blaine?”

“A hunch. Where are they?”

Caleb flipped open the file folder he’d carried in under his arm

to reveal a photograph of Blaine dining with a tall, distinguished-

looking man who appeared to be in his early forties but was actually

ten times that age. In every other picture I’d seen of Balthasar

Brenner, his long dark hair had been pulled back from his face. In

this photo, his hair was loose in a wavy mane brushing the shoulders

of a gray suit jacket that managed to look expensive despite the

graininess of the image.

“They’re eating at a very exclusive French restaurant in

Georgetown,” Caleb said.

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I looked at the time stamp on the photograph: ten minutes ago.

“You’ll shift your tails to Brenner?”

“Yes. Do you still want anyone on Blaine?”

“Only if you have someone to spare.” My brain had jumped

into hyperdrive. Brenner’s location was almost as much of a Holy

Grail as Brenner’s head.

“I do,” said Caleb. “Who knows? He might lead us to something

else of interest.”

“He might.” Perhaps Caleb’s people would be able to discover

for certain whether Blaine was human or Were.

“Any word on the delegation?”

Like every other vampire with whom I’d spoken in the past few

days, Caleb was concerned about the fate of the missing Sunrunners.

They seemed to have suddenly disappeared from the face of the

earth. The news had spread quickly, with rumors cropping up in

its wake. Most believed Brenner to be responsible. Others thought

Helen had angered the delegation and that they had subsequently

broken off communication. A few even suggested that Helen had

kidnapped them herself, in order to consolidate her power through

fear-mongering.

“No word,” I said. “I think Brenner has them, and that he’s

playing cat and mouse with us. The longer Helen has to stew, the

more likely she is to feel pressured into doing something desperate.”

Caleb nodded. “Even more incentive to find his hiding place.”

“Keep me informed of every change. Every single one.”

“I will.” In the ensuing silence, he drummed his fingers lightly

on the table top—a sign that he wanted to offer me a piece of advice

but was concerned about how well I would take a suggestion that

hadn’t originated with me.

“Out with it,” I said, and his smile was rueful when he realized

that he had betrayed his tell.

“Are you planning to go to Foster or Summers with this

information?”

I considered the question. By all rights, Leon Summers should

be my first call and Devon Foster my second. They were officially in

charge of Consortium law enforcement, and each had made it their

• 142 •

nightrise

personal mission to capture Brenner. They had far more resources at

their disposal than I did, but if I turned over this information, they

would take charge.

“Why do you think I shouldn’t?” I asked Caleb.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He blew out a sigh. “Foster and Summers will want to add their

people, and that might spook Brenner. The coverage we have right

now is working.”

“I’ll wait to call them until we have more information,” I said.

“Preferably when he’s in a stable location. Not a restaurant—some

kind of base.”

“Fair enough.” Caleb got to his feet, but when he headed for

the door, I stopped him with one last question—about the one thing

I was never quite able to banish from my mind, regardless of what

else was happening.

“In all this chaos, have you heard anything about Alexa?”

“Not a thing. But the minute she gets on any plane larger than

a crop duster, I’ll know.”

When he left, I returned to my desk and sipped lightly at my

scotch—not to celebrate, now, but to settle my nerves. So much

could go wrong with this operation—Brenner could realize he was

being followed, or Caleb’s team could lose him. My mind raced

as I considered and rejected possibilities, and I soon found myself

pacing the length of my office.

I finally returned to my desk, determined to read through a

stack of paper work that had been piling up since the beginning

of the week. But instead of serving as a welcome distraction, the

work bored me and my mind began to wander, as always, to Alexa.

She had been gone for a full week now, and I was starting to regret

my order not to have her followed outside the country. My lack of

knowledge was a distraction; I needed to know what she was doing,

and with whom.

Thankfully, Caleb called a few minutes later with an update on

Brenner: he and Blaine had moved to a club for drinks, and Caleb

had replaced their shadows to cut down on the risk of suspicion. His

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contacts hadn’t gotten close enough to overhear conversation, but

they had witnessed the exchange of a thin envelope from Brenner

to Blaine.

It was just shy of midnight—still early, by vampire standards—

but I was too preoccupied to get anything done and would be more

comfortable in my apartment. When Caleb’s next call came through,

I was lounging in my hot tub and wishing I could be one of the

operatives tailing Brenner instead of someone who had to sit on

the sidelines getting intermittent updates. But even if I could have

hopped on a plane to D.C., it would have been too risky. Brenner

and I had never met face-to-face, but I had no doubt that he knew

what I looked like; he’d tried to have me killed three times, after all.

I wasted no time on pleasantries. “Is he on the move?”

“He was just picked up from the club. The car windows were

tinted, so my people couldn’t make out the driver.”

I sat up so quickly that water cascaded over the lip of the tub.

“But you’ve got him covered?”

“Yes. I’ll call back as soon as we have a fix on where he’s

going.”

When he disconnected the call, I hastily dried off and threw on

some clothing, wanting to be prepared for anything. A few minutes

later, I received a text that Brenner appeared to be headed to a

private airfield in Virginia and that Caleb was pulling strings to get

the passenger manifests of every plane scheduled to leave within the

next few hours. I checked my watch and muttered a curse; there was

no way I could follow him with only two hours until dawn.

Finally, Caleb called back. “You’re not going to believe this.

The only plane scheduled to fly out before the morning is headed to

Linden Airport.”

Linden Airport was a tiny airfield across the Hudson River that

catered to the rich and famous who didn’t want to interact with the

crowds at Newark International whenever they came to the city. The

sudden rush of adrenaline made my ears ring.

“Holy shit. He’s coming here.”

“Apparently. Do you still want our people on him, or are you

going to call it in?”

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My head pounded with possibilities. “Both. We need a full

court press. We can’t lose him.”

“I’m on it.”

The first number I dialed was Leon Summers’s, and after I had

him on the line, I added Devon Foster to the call.

“This had better be good, Val,” she said. “I’m up to my teeth,

here.”

“You and me both,” said Summers.

They both sounded fatigued, and it wasn’t difficult to guess

why; with no news about the status of the delegation, they were

exhausting every avenue of inquiry. I cut to the chase.

“Balthasar Brenner will be landing at Linden Airport in about

two hours.”

The conversation exploded, as I’d known it would. Once

they’d had it out with their expressions of incredulity, I explained

my orders to Caleb and what he had discovered.

“The ball’s in your court now,” I told them, “but I want to be a

part of this. Start to finish.”

“Then get your ass over here,” Summers snapped. “We’ll be in

the War Room.”

“And bring guns,” Foster added. “Lots of guns.”

• 145 •

• 146 •

nightrise

Chapter FiFteeN

I had a separate closet for my guns, the way other women had

a closet for their shoes. My collection had come a long way

in the year and a half since Penn, my father’s head of security, had

given me my first revolver—a Colt M1911. Now, I debated between

a wide variety of handguns, most of which had been custom-made

by a small company in Arkansas. Finally, I selected three: the CQB

Tactical Light Rail, which was excellent in low-light conditions; the

M-4T Tactical Carbine, which could shoot thirty rounds before it

needed reloading and was especially good at close-range; and the

easily-concealed Combat Sentinel. And a knife, as backup.

Gray predawn light was filtering through my car’s windows

by the time I reached Headquarters, and I ducked inside the doors

with relief. Giselle’s replacement at the front desk was even more

beautiful than her predecessor, with exquisite ebony skin and large,

almond-shaped eyes. On any other day, I would have paused to

introduce myself, but instead, I hurried for the elevator.

If Consortium Headquarters was a fortress, then the War Room

was its keep. Giant plasma screens plastered almost every available

wall, some displaying live video feeds from around the world, while

others projected data arranged in charts and graphs. When I entered,

I was directed to a conference room in the back where Summers and

Foster were monitoring the team that had been deployed to track

Brenner’s movements.

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Like everyone else in the conference room, I was wearing a black

sweater, black pants, and black boots. We had all come prepared for a

raid. Caleb greeted me tersely, his attention clearly divided between

the two screens in this room. One was a long-distance shot of the

airfield, while the other camera was inside the hangar. Our hackers

had made quick work of the airport’s security protocols.

I clapped Caleb on the shoulder. “Nice job picking up Brenner.”

He only grunted in reply. Foster hailed me from across the room

and I went to join her and Summers where they were examining

schematics of the airport and hangar.

“I’m not going to believe you actually found him until I see the

fucker with my own eyes,” Summers said.

“Patience, Leon,” I replied, though truthfully, I was just as

impatient as he was. “What’s the plan once he’s on the ground?”

“We’ve got people on the tarmac, in the hangar, and in the

airport,” said Foster. “As well as two teams waiting in cars and a

few extras on motorcycles. Anyone likely to get close to him is a

human, to avoid suspicion. We’ll be on him like crazy glue.”

“As soon as we track him to his base, we’ll mount a raid.”

Summers turned his full attention to me for the first time. “I take it

you’ll be coming along?”

I hefted the small duffle that held the M-4T and spare rounds.

The Light Rail was already strapped to my waist, and the Sentinel

pressed comfortingly against my lower back, fully concealed by my

shirt. “Locked and loaded. Try and stop me.”

“Plane’s coming in,” someone called, and all attention turned

to the screen monitoring the runway. A few seconds later, a small

silver airplane came into view and touched down smoothly before

taxiing to the hangar. The minutes dragged by as we waited for its

passengers to disembark.

Several armed men in dark suits walked down the stairway first

and inspected the hangar and its personnel. One of them spoke into

a wrist mic, and a few moments later, another figure appeared at the

airlock. During the flight, Brenner had transformed from a business

executive into a militia leader. Dressed in gray cable-knit sweater,

camo pants, and military-issue boots, he looked ready for a fight.

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“I’ll be damned,” Leon muttered.

Brenner bypassed the entrance to the small building that housed

the airport’s offices, walking toward the hangar doors and then out

of the camera’s field of view.

“Report,” Foster ordered, sounding much more calm than I

would have under the circumstances.

The speaker on the table crackled into life. “He’s getting into a

black Suburban parked around the corner. We’ll pick him up.”

For the next fifteen minutes, we listened to the operatives report

in as they followed Brenner in a dizzying series of coordinated

maneuvers designed not to arouse the suspicions of his driver or

guards. Finally, the car turned into a derelict storage lot that, one

of Leon’s agents informed us, used to be an offshoot of the New

York/New Jersey Port Authority before business had waned.

Unfortunately, its security cameras had been disabled, so we had no

way of seeing inside short of physically entering the yard.

“Watch the perimeter,” Foster was instructing her team. “Every

square inch, including the waterfront. Commandeer a boat if we

can’t scramble one fast enough. Nobody comes or goes without

your knowledge. We’ll be there as soon as it’s dark again.”

Once the operatives’ affirmative replies had come through the

speaker, Summers ended the transmission and whistled shrilly to

call the room to attention.

“We have eleven hours to come up with an ironclad plan,

people,” he barked. “Failure is not an option. Let’s get to work.”

❖

As the van exited the Holland Tunnel, Foster called her team

leader at the lot. “Status?”

“No change.” If the man was getting tired of Foster’s frequent

requests for reports, his voice didn’t reveal it. Before we left

Headquarters, we had all been outfitted with earbuds and mics, and

I could hear Foster’s lieutenant as clearly as if he were sitting next

to me.

“ETA twenty minutes,” she said.

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I stretched my legs into the space between the van’s benches

and mentally prepared myself for the skirmish to come. We had the

element of surprise along with three different attack plans based on

what we found when we arrived at the yard. Satellite photographs

had helped us identify a cluster of three warehouses near the center of

the complex where movement had been seen earlier in the day, and

each plan focused on surrounding and securing the area with minimal

chaos. The last thing we needed was to alert any human authorities.

We had fed before leaving Headquarters, and my senses were

so amplified that I could hear every minor imperfection in the car; its

front tires needed rotation and its back axle was a tiny bit crooked.

When I closed my eyes, the sounds and scents jumped into even

sharper relief: the low buzz of our electronic equipment, the acrid

odor of gunpowder, the persistent grinding of Caleb’s teeth as he

guided the van in and out of traffic.

Summers studied the GPS closely. “Let’s ditch the car up

here,” he said, indicating the parking lot of an abandoned grocery

superstore. Caleb pulled over and maneuvered the van behind a large

pile of dirty snow, concealing it from the casual view of passersby. I

unzipped my duffle and pulled out a ski mask, then slung the M-4T

across my shoulders and clipped the spare rounds to my belt.

“How far are we from this place?” I asked as I followed Foster

out the sliding door.

“Just over half a mile.” After radioing the team leader that we

were approaching on foot, she led the way down the road at a jog.

The chill air sluiced down my lungs and my breath steamed

into the night. It felt good to be on the move, and I allowed myself

a brief moment simply to appreciate the crisp starlit evening before

shifting my attention to the mission ahead. As the storage lot came

into view around a bend in the road, Summers held up a hand to

slow our pace.

I peered into the shadows ahead, straining with my other senses

as well. There were humans not too far away—at least two of them.

Weres had been here recently, but their scent was dull, like the stale

smell of beer in an abandoned fraternity basement.

“Dobson, Harris,” Foster murmured. “Show yourselves.”

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nightrise

Two humans materialized out of the darkness. “Their perimeter

is a hundred yards away,” whispered the taller of the two. “Sentries

still positioned at twenty-yard intervals.”

“Stick to the plan, then,” said Summers.

We fanned out at the fifty-yard point, a steel trap poised to

close on Brenner’s guards. In an effort to infiltrate the lot without

alerting him, Summers and Foster had assigned two team members

to each of his sentries. We were to avoid shooting our guns unless

absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, using silencers wouldn’t help;

with their keen hearing, the shifters would still be able to hear a

silenced shot.

Foster and I paired off, Caleb and Summers to our right. We

moved like ghosts, sprinting silently between patches of shadow. As

we crested a small rise in the terrain, we dropped to our stomachs.

The chain link fence surrounding the yard was topped with rolls of

barbed wire. A large gate bisected the road, flanked by two human-

shaped figures. I was fairly confident they hadn’t seen our approach,

but the twenty yards between us and them was completely devoid

of cover. We would have to make a dash for it. I hoped our team’s

human pairs were luckier in terms of their geography. Having fed so

recently, I could cover the distance in only a few seconds, but they

would be much slower.

“Ready?” Foster said under her breath. While the other pairs

reported in, I disengaged my gun safeties and loosened the strap of

the M-4T. When she glanced at me, I nodded.

“Go go go!”

I pushed hard off the frozen ground and raced across the

intervening space, milking every ounce of superhuman speed from

my legs. With no time to shift, the sentries snarled and reached for

their weapons, but I pistol-whipped the first before he could fire.

Distracted by me, the second guard fell to Foster who put him in a

chokehold.

“Not bad,” I said, my breaths still coming steadily. And then

machine gun fire erupted off to our left like popcorn in a kettle drum.

Foster cursed but didn’t take her focus off the gate. As we

broke the chain and yanked it open, Caleb and Summers rejoined

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us. A moment later, Harris reported that one of his fellow operatives

had been wounded but the others would join us shortly.

“Let’s get in there while Brenner’s troops are mustering,” said

Summers.

“We’re going in,” Foster said into her mic. “Assemble the rest

of the team and then come and back us up.”

We ran into the yard and immediately took cover behind the

nearest shipping container. With our backs to the fence, we made

our way toward the center of the compound. All my senses were on

high alert, but the prevailing scent was a composite of salt water and

rotting fish from the nearby bay, and the only sounds I heard were

the ones our small party made as we traversed the broken asphalt.

“Where the hell are his goons?” Summers growled as we

approached the cluster of warehouses that had appeared—from the

sky, anyway—to be Brenner’s base camp. Each of us in turn peered

around the corner of the container we were currently using for cover.

The warehouse buildings formed three legs of a square with a large

empty space in the middle.

“Trap.” Caleb sounded like he had no doubt, and neither did I.

“We need to spring it somehow,” I said. “We’re just giving

them more time to get ready, otherwise.”

Foster knelt and began to scratch patterns in the gravel. “Why

don’t we—”

From the bay, a nearby barge sounded its horn in a long,

booming note, almost drowning out the scrape of a boot on metal

above us. As the sound reached my hypersensitive ears, I dove

into the corridor between our container and the next, rolled onto

my back, and fired almost straight up into the air. Moments later, a

twitching canine body dropped to my feet. I’d missed a killing blow

and now had a fully shifted wolf on my hands.

“Ambush from above!” I hissed just before all hell broke loose.

The massive wolf lunged for my throat, but Foster shot it in the

head before it touched me. Bullets pinged the metal walls all around

us, ricocheting dangerously. One thudded into the earth just past my

feet, and I scrambled up to find new cover. I sprinted around the back

of the container and vaulted onto its ladder, sticking my head up

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nightrise

above the walls just long enough to pick off one of Brenner’s thugs.

Bullets sprayed above my head as I dropped back to the ground.

“I’ll cherry pick,” I said into the mic. “You guys find a

defensible spot.”

I darted from container to container, shooting off as many

rounds as I could and then zigzagging unpredictably so Brenner’s

mercenaries couldn’t be certain of where I would pop up next.

Meanwhile, Foster, Summers, and Caleb deployed most of the team

to flanking positions near the central warehouses and instructed the

rest to keep our path of retreat open.

But almost immediately, the first group ran into trouble.

Brenner’s men atop the shipping containers were joined by shooters

on the second level of the nearest warehouses. The group was

pinned in a no man’s land. Instead of picking off one shooter at

a time, I climbed out onto the container’s roof and ran toward the

warehouse. The M-4T felt alive in my hands, and I used it to nail

both of the gunmen who were out in the open. As soon as the ones

in the warehouse realized what was happening, they turned their

rifles toward me, but I shot one of them as I continued to run toward

Foster’s beleaguered team.

I didn’t slow as I reached the far edge of the container, and

instead propelled myself into the air even as I continued to fire into

the warehouse windows. When I hit the ground, I rolled right into

the remnants of the team. One was dead and another wounded, and

the metallic aroma of fresh blood filled my mouth with moisture.

Before I could speak, a deep voice rang out into the night.

“Cease and desist, or I will start killing your precious

Sunrunners, one by one.”

“Brenner!” Foster’s whisper echoed through my ears.

I beckoned for the two remaining humans to join me and we

edged forward until we had a clear line of sight into the courtyard.

Balthasar Brenner stood near the entrance to the warehouse that sat

along the waterline. He was flanked by two large black wolves, and

Bai knelt before him, face bloodied and hands tied behind his back.

“This has gone on long enough,” Brenner said, his voice

echoing throughout the lot. “Leave at once, or you will have to

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explain this one’s death to your bloodsucking bitch mistress.” He

tangled his fingers in Bai’s hair and tugged, exposing his throat.

“When I am feeling disposed to negotiate terms for her surrender,

she will be the first to know.”

I raised the M-4T to my shoulder and sighted along the barrel,

not wanting to risk tipping off Brenner by using the laser sight. Even

so, he seemed to know exactly what I was doing.

“And if you kill me now,” he continued, “my soldiers have

orders to end the pathetic lives of every single vampire in my

custody.”

Swearing quietly, I lowered the gun to my side. Foster and

Summers were talking over each other, but their lines of reasoning

seemed to be in agreement: under no circumstances could we risk

Brenner killing his hostages. We needed to get out, inform Helen of

the situation, and regroup.

“You’ve made your point,” Summers shouted from their hiding

place. “We will retreat.”

I could only imagine how bitter those words tasted in his mouth.

“Watch your backs,” I murmured, even as I gestured for the humans

to follow me back to the gate. “He didn’t guarantee safe passage.”

That became all too clear when the stillness of the night gave

way to menacing snarls. Brenner had let his dogs out. We raced for

the gate, and as it came into view, I heard Foster announce that her

small group was through. But the growling behind us was growing

louder. The wolves were going to overtake us.

I stopped and pulled the gun from my belt. I yelled at the

humans to keep going, then planted my feet and faced back the way

we had come. The two black wolves were covering the distance

between us in ground-eating strides, their fearsome teeth bared

beneath crimson gums. They would reach me in seconds, but I was

still strong, still fast. Letting instinct guide my movements, I raised

my gun and squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession.

The first wolf fell like a stone, a bloodstain blooming across

its barrel chest. But my second shot went wide, and I had only a

heartbeat before those jaws would close around my throat. In one

smooth movement, I dropped into a crouch, pulled my knife from

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its ankle sheath, and flung it into the chest of the beast just as it leapt

for me. Its momentum knocked me to the ground, but the spasmodic

twitching of its muscles signaled that my blade had found its mark.

I rolled out from under its weight and hurried to rejoin the

others. Since we couldn’t lock the gate, we raced back to the van,

lest Brenner deploy more of his wolves. Caleb pealed out of the

parking lot like a man possessed, and only then did I dare to take a

deep breath.

“What a clusterfuck,” I said, finally allowing myself to feel

the full measure of disgust at our impotence. Perhaps I should have

disobeyed orders and pulled the trigger when I had the chance.

Those wolves would have instantly turned on Bai, but we might

have been able to get rid of them before—

When I realized where my thoughts had gone, I almost laughed.

Before what? Before they crushed his jugular? Before they ripped

open his guts? Bai was second in command to one of the most

powerful vampires in the world. Brenner had all the chips, and he

knew it. I glanced at Summers’s stony expression and wondered

what he would advise Helen to do once we returned to Headquarters.

“He’s toying with us.” Foster sounded just as pained as

Summers looked and I felt. “The bastard.”

As we sped back toward Manhattan, my adrenaline rush

and blood high began to fade simultaneously. Combined with my

disappointment, it felt as though all color was rapidly being leeched

from the world. I leaned my head against the cold glass of the

window and closed my eyes, glad I didn’t have to be the one to

take charge of the report to Helen. She was going to grill Foster and

Summers, but I could probably escape to my apartment. Or perhaps

Tartarus, where I reigned like a god and could leave the memory of

Brenner’s taunts behind.

It seemed insane to be thinking about going back to my daily

business as though I hadn’t just seen his face in my gun sights. But

what else could I do? The Consortium was hamstrung. Even with

the element of surprise on our side, Brenner had easily neutralized

our raid. A second extraction mission would be far more difficult

to plan—it would take weeks, if not months, to execute properly.

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Brenner seemed bent on making us wait, but I doubted he’d delay

taking action for that long. And what was he waiting for, anyway?

Was he playing mind games, or was he deliberately holding off until

a certain date had passed or goal had been accomplished?

Unsettled, I disembarked with the team in the Consortium’s

garage and rode up to the seventh floor where we would be debriefed

in the War Room. Before I could join them inside, however, Caleb

pulled me into a corner. His expression was guarded.

“I just checked my voice mail,” he said. “One of my FAA

contacts left me a message while we were…preoccupied.”

Alexa. The thought was involuntary, but despite the surge in

my pulse, I forced my expression to remain neutral. “Oh?”

“An hour ago, Alexa boarded a flight from a regional airport in

western Argentina, bound for Buenos Aires. Her name also appears

on the manifest of a flight scheduled to depart early tomorrow

morning for JFK Airport.”

Every sense leapt into high alert as the memory of her

incomparable taste flooded my mouth. A fine shiver swept me, but

if he noticed, Caleb said nothing. The urgency and helplessness I’d

felt over Brenner’s plans receded to the back of my mind, banished

like morning mist before the sun.

Alexa was coming home.

• 156 •

alexa

• 157 •

• 158 •

nightrise

Chapter SixteeN

I set my teeth against a gasp of pain as the airplane hit another

pocket of turbulence, jostling my left arm against the wall.

Sensing a threat, my panther tried to ascend and I shut my eyes,

turning all my attention inward to keep her under wraps. When

Olivia reached for my hand, I squeezed hard enough to feel her

wince. Her injury seemed not to be bothering her much at all, but

then again, she didn’t have a living organism trying to colonize one

of her limbs.

As the panther finally retreated from the fore of my mind, I

released my grip on Olivia and glanced out the window. Below, the

land was growing larger, its features becoming more distinct. In the

seat across the aisle, Solana gave me a sympathetic look.

“It won’t be long now,” she murmured.

The area around my scar had been red and puffy before we

boarded the airplane, but in the hours since, my entire forearm had

swelled significantly. I didn’t know whether that was linked to the

shifts in cabin pressure or whether it would have happened even

had I stayed on the ground. Regardless, I was in constant pain. The

wound throbbed dully and even the gentlest touch on any part of that

arm was excruciating.

“Do you think ice will be safe?” I asked Solana. We had

discussed whether I should go on broad-spectrum antibiotics to

decrease the risk of infection, but since we had no way of knowing

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whether that kind of medication would affect the viability of the

flower’s root, I had decided to stay off all pills except painkillers.

“I should think so,” she said, and I consoled myself by

imagining how good it would feel to plunge my burning arm into a

huge bucket of ice cubes once I was home.

When the plane finally touched down, I held my arm well away

from my body to minimize the discomfort of the landing. Mercifully,

the foot traffic through Passport Control moved quickly, and we

claimed our bags within an hour. As we waited in the line to clear

Customs, I couldn’t help but flash back to the last time I’d returned

to the States from abroad—back in the summer, when Constantine

and I had used forged documents to avoid Brenner’s detection after

escaping from his outpost in Morocco.

This time I had my proper passport, but transporting a rare

and potent flower inside my body was in flagrant violation of the

injunctions—posted on the walls at regular intervals throughout

baggage claim—against bringing foreign fruit, plants, and seeds

into the country. Fortunately, the Customs official took my stamped

paperwork and waved me through without any questions.

I searched the crowd for Karma and found her waiting next to

a newsstand, but she was on the phone and didn’t see us right away.

A frown furrowed her brow as she spoke, and she looked as though

she had lost some weight in the past week. But when she did catch

sight of us, she smiled and waved and ended her call. I embraced her

awkwardly with one arm, shielding the entire left side of my body.

“What happened?” she asked, the smile leaving her face as

quickly as it had come. “Are you injured?”

“In a matter of speaking.” I hadn’t filled her in when I’d called

from the airport in Buenos Aires asking her to meet us at JFK.

Secrecy was paramount if this plan had any chance of working, and

I had no idea who might be listening in to her phone calls.

“You remember Olivia,” I continued. “And this is Solana

Carrizo, who has been a huge help to us. She’s an acquaintance of

Helen’s from, ah, several years ago.”

Karma’s thin eyebrows shot up. “Really. It’s a true pleasure to

meet you.” She cut her gaze to the window, where the sun was just

beginning to set, then back to Solana.

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“We’ll explain everything,” I said, “but we need a secure place

to talk.”

Karma nodded. “You must be hungry. Let’s chat over dinner. I

know just the place.”

We discussed only trivialities in the Consortium car that

drove us into downtown Manhattan, and as an added precaution,

Karma had the driver drop us off several blocks from our intended

destination. Rabbit in the Moon was a cozy gastropub in Greenwich

Village that specialized in updated British comfort foods, and they

were happy to seat us at a secluded table in an alcove near the back.

“First of all,” I said as the waitress left with our drinks order,

“how is Malcolm?”

“He regained consciousness yesterday.” Karma held up a hand

to forestall my exclamation. “But he shifted immediately and hasn’t

yet transformed back.”

“You don’t think he’s gone feral, do you?” I couldn’t imagine

that. Malcolm’s will was strong and his control nearly perfect. Then

again, his brain injury could have changed all that.

“Gone feral?” Olivia looked alarmed. “What does that mean?”

“Under certain circumstances, a Were can lose himself in his

beast,” said Karma. “When that happens, the Were becomes unable

to shift and lives out the natural life of his other half.”

“What are the physicians saying about Malcolm’s condition?”

I asked.

“The optimists among them believe this to be a necessary

stage in his healing process. They have him under observation in

the arena and are holding off on any action for now.” Karma lapsed

into silence when our drinks arrived, but focused back on me once

the waitress had left. “There’s something else you should know.

Balthasar Brenner is here.”

“Here? In New York?” The revelation triggered a surge of

anxiety and I pressed the heel of my right hand to the space between

my breasts, as though doing so might calm my pounding heart.

Alarm skittered down my spine, and I took deep, even breaths to

calm my panther. Karma was gripping the table hard, her jackal

reacting to my volatility. For an instant, I was back in the prison

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Brenner had arranged for me and Constantine, overwhelmed by the

acrid scent of urine and wet fur, fighting off despair that I would

ever see Val again. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling

the aroma of pine wood and candle wax. I was free. I was safe. I was

among friends.

“He’s just across the river, actually.” Karma’s voice was tight

with strain. “He arrived yesterday to join his soldiers. They’ve set

up a makeshift base at a storage lot in Elizabeth.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “How did you discover

this? And if you know where they are, then why hasn’t he been

captured? Or better yet, killed?”

I glanced at Olivia, wondering whether she found the harshness

of my words to be disturbing, but she looked as grim as I felt. I

shouldn’t have been surprised. Brenner was the one responsible for

Abby’s illness, and she would want to make him pay.

“Valentine discovered his whereabouts,” Karma said, watching

me closely. “After Brenner’s people captured the members of a

delegation from the Sunrunner vampire clan. Last night, a team

attempted a raid on Brenner’s facility, but they had to turn back

when he threatened to kill his hostages.”

I took a long sip of my cocktail, hoping it would help to steady

my nerves. “What’s the plan, then? What does he want?”

“No one knows. He sent a message back with the Consortium

operatives that he would open negotiations at some future time.”

Olivia made a sound of disgust. “He’s playing with you.”

Solana, who had been following our conversation with interest,

finally spoke. “I do not know Brenner, but I have known many men

like him. He will make negotiation impossible. He’ll take whatever

he wants.”

“What he wants is the dissolution of the Consortium.”

“With Malcolm out of commission, Helen is the only one who

can stand in his way,” Karma said. “And she’s shut us out. She

mistrusts all Weres categorically, now—even Constantine.”

“Perhaps she will listen to me,” Solana said into the silence. At

Karma’s curious look, she elaborated. “We were lovers long ago.”

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I could tell that Karma wanted more details, but she didn’t

press for them. Instead, she turned to me. “Despite everything that’s

happened, I’ve been burning with curiosity to hear how your search

went. Did you find it?”

“Miraculously, we did.” I launched into the story of how we

had traced the legend of the flower from documents in the National

Library to the mountains of western Argentina. When I reached the

part about Miguel’s plan for the flower, I let Solana take over the

narration since she knew far more about the flower’s properties.

By the time she drew to a close, Karma was leaning forward

incredulously.

“The roots are literally inside you?” she asked me.

I checked to ensure that no other pub patrons were watching

before I gingerly pushed up my sleeve.

“Dear God,” Karma murmured in horror.

It was a ghastly sight, like something out of Frankenstein. The

skin of my forearm was mottled red and stretched tightly over the

bulge that rose around the site of the wound. My scar was so taut

that it looked as though it might fly apart in the next second. When

my fingertip accidentally brushed the fiery, swollen skin, I bit my

lower lip to keep from crying out. Again, the panther battered at the

walls of my psyche, and again I held her back. Pain blossomed at

my temples from the strain.

“I need your help,” I said once the sharp spike of agony had

faded into the ever-present ache that refused to dissipate. “I have

to convince Valentine to drink from me. We believe that if she

does, she’ll absorb enough of the flower’s essence to reverse the

transition.”

“Convince?” Karma squeezed my right hand. “Sweetie, listen

to me. That night, last month, when I convinced you to come to

Luna? When she surprised us there? She may have come to the club

to raise hell, but her entire demeanor changed when she saw you.

She wants you. Badly.”

Olivia seemed uncomfortable with this shift in conversation,

and I wondered what she had thought would have to happen for

Valentine to be saved. Perhaps she had deluded herself into thinking

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that my blood could be mixed with Val’s morning coffee, but that

wasn’t how this worked. Val would have to part my skin with her

teeth and drink deeply. At the prospect of her bite, arousal blossomed

deep in my stomach, and I took another long sip of my drink to

disguise my reaction.

“Although,” Karma continued, leaning back in her chair, “She

may be more suspicious now, after the most recent attempt.”

“Attempt?”

“On her life. Brenner sent an assassin to the club last week—his

third in as many months. According to the rumor mill, she closely

resembled you as a human.”

I growled, and Olivia instinctively jerked away. A haze of red

filmed over my vision at the news that Brenner had used me to get to

Valentine. In the process, he had made my task significantly harder.

“In other words,” Solana said as I struggled to calm myself,

“you will, in fact, have to ‘convince her.’” One corner of her mouth

quirked in a mirthless smile. “You will have to mount a seduction

worthy of an epic.”

Olivia visibly squirmed in her seat, but Karma’s eyes glinted

at the prospect.

“All’s fair in love and war, and every war needs a staging

ground. Come to my apartment tomorrow night, and from there

we’ll all go to Tartarus together.” She focused in on me. “I have the

perfect dress for you to wear.”

I wanted to demand that we not waste even a second—that

we ambush Valentine tonight. But I needed to sleep, especially if

I was going to look my best and feel my sharpest. The fate of her

soul rested on my ability to be both seductive and disarming—to

convince her of my attraction without making my own capitulation

unbelievable. To convince her that I still desired her now with a

ferocity equal to the emotions I’d felt…before.

As we gathered our belongings, I found myself wondering how

much of the charades to come would actually be an act.

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Chapter SeveNteeN

Close your eyes.”

I sat on one of Karma’s bar stools that we had placed

before her bathroom mirror. Her reflection looked insistent as she

brandished her eye shadow brush as though it were some kind of

weapon.

“I’ve always been a very light makeup user,” I reminded her.

“If you go crazy with this, Val will know something’s off.”

At Karma’s exasperated sigh, I relented and let my eyes fall

shut. For a moment, the scene felt eerily normal—as though we

were simply a group of attractive, single women preparing for a

night on the town. So much had never before been at stake on the

outcome of a girls’ night out.

As the brush fluttered across my eyelids, I tried to relax. The

pain in my arm had temporarily receded after I’d submerged it in a

bucket full of ice for the second time today. I didn’t want to keep

it there for too long, lest the cold somehow damage the root, but I

needed to reduce some of the swelling.

“She’s doing a great job,” Olivia reassured me after a moment.

She had arrived a few minutes ago with our ride for the evening—a

Bentley four-seater sports car. I was glad to hear her speak up. After

our conversation at the pub last night, she had seemed aloof and

preoccupied. We had parted ways after dinner, Olivia and Karma

heading uptown, while Solana and I walked to my Lower East

Side apartment. I’d been surprised that Solana hadn’t taken the

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opportunity to see Helen. She had claimed to want to stay with me

because of the flower, but I thought she might actually be nervous.

Karma patted me on the shoulder. “Take a look.”

I was impressed. Karma had used a delicate gray-green shading

to bring out the color of my eyes, and a subtle touch of eyeliner to

make them look bigger and darker. I didn’t look exhausted or in

pain—I looked elegant.

“Wow. You missed your true calling.”

She handed me lipstick the color of a dusky red rose, and I

applied it lightly. At that moment, Solana, who had been perusing

Karma’s collection of books in her living room, joined us. In a silver

spaghetti-strap dress, she looked a far cry from the woman who had

surprised Olivia and me at Shadow Ranch.

“You look beautiful,” she said, then gestured toward the ice

bucket. “You’ve probably done that for long enough.”

I removed my arm, but when Solana approached me with a

towel, I waved her away. “Let’s just let it air dry. Putting the glove

on is going to be agonizing enough.”

Olivia’s mouth tightened at my reference to just how much

pain I was in. Despite her professed desire to help Valentine, I had a

feeling that she was starting to wonder whether Val was truly worth

this level of effort. The only questions on my mind, however, were

the ones that would make this mission more likely to succeed.

“While we’re all here, let’s figure out the specifics.” I glanced

at Karma. “Have you been to Tartarus? What’s the layout?”

Karma perched on the edge of her Jacuzzi-style tub. “There are

three entrances: the main entrance, a VIP entrance, and Valentine’s

private entrance. Each has its own elevator that goes down to the

dance floor. Security was tight when I was last there, and I imagine

it will be even tighter after the most recent assassination attempt.”

She shuddered. “The club is deep underground—very deep. I’ve

been there only once, and I don’t relish going back.”

I sighed. Not only would I be suffering from chronic pain and

performance anxiety, but also claustrophobia. Wonderful. Hopefully,

I could minimize my time underground by convincing Val to take

me back to her apartment.

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“Do you know where Val lives in Soho? Just in case you aren’t

able to follow us there?”

“I do. But I don’t think her first inclination will be to take you

home. She’ll probably just take you to her office.”

“Well, that’s not going to work,” said Olivia, sounding agitated.

“How are we going to be able to get to Alexa if we have to fight

through security in an underground fucking fortress?”

I leaned over and briefly rested one palm on her knee. “I’ll just

have to convince Val to take me back to her apartment somehow.”

A sudden thought made my gut twist. “Unless she shares it with

Sebastian?”

“Don’t worry,” Karma said. “Sebastian lives on the Upper East

Side. Val’s apartment will suit our purposes well. Her penthouse has

its own entrance. Once she is…incapacitated…you can let us up and

we’ll be able to avoid suspicion entirely.”

“The only flaw in that plan is that I might not be able to stop

myself from shifting,” I pointed out.

Karma pondered for a moment. “If that happens, you could try

to lock yourself out on the roof where the pool is.”

I couldn’t help but feel incredulous. “So that rumor is true? She

actually has her own pool?”

“We need to establish a timeline,” Solana broke in. “There

needs to be a cut-off point after which we find a way inside, in case

Alexa is not able to communicate with us.”

Karma gave me a questioning look and I cleared my throat,

unable to escape feeling self-conscious. Essentially, Solana was

asking me how long I thought it would take me to seduce Valentine

into biting me.

“Ah, let’s say two hours. Just to be safe.”

“Two hours without any backup?” Olivia said.

I held her bright, angry gaze. “Val will want to feed from me,

not hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

Olivia spun away and left the room, but I didn’t go after her.

There was nothing I could say that she wanted to hear, and the clock

was ticking. It was time to put on my gloves.

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❖

Olivia maneuvered the Bentley into a spot across the street

from the club’s nondescript entrance. When she cut the engine, I

brushed my palm across her shoulder.

“Thanks for driving. Hopefully, you won’t have to wait long.”

She kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and didn’t

meet my eyes. “Be careful.”

I got out of the car, smoothed the folds of my strapless black

dress, and turned to Karma. “Any final touches?”

She looked me up and down, then smiled and shook her head.

“You’re perfect.”

“Sweet-talker.” Squaring my shoulders, I took her arm. “Shall

we?”

Karma led the way, circumventing the line to approach the

bouncer—a clean-shaven male vampire who would have looked

more at home behind a desk than in front of a door. He recognized

her on sight and waved us inside.

“Enjoy your evening, Ms. Rao.”

Once inside the door, we found ourselves in a Romanesque

atrium. Tall, white pillars connected the black mosaic floor to an

identically tiled ceiling. The effect was disorienting. I felt as though

I had fallen through the rabbit hole and no longer had a clear sense

of what was right-side up. Across the chamber, a bank of elevators

waited to take us down into the club, but we had to pass through a

metal detector first. I wondered how old the detector was—whether

it had been put into place recently, or whether Valentine’s would-

be assassins had found ways of circumventing it. Fortunately, my

weapons weren’t made of steel.

I walked through it to join Karma and Solana on the other

side and together, we stepped into an elevator. No other patrons

had been admitted despite the length of the line. As the doors

closed, I inspected my appearance in the mirrored walls. My

black hair cascaded in glossy waves over my shoulders to brush

against my collarbone, and the dress hugged my body like a sheath,

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accentuating the fullness of my breasts. I had elected not to wear

any jewelry, in hopes that the pale expanse of my neck would prove

irresistible.

The elevator whirred into motion, its descent rapid enough to

make my ears pop. My panther paced behind my eyes, discomfited

by the walls that had closed around us.

“How is your arm?” Solana asked.

I glanced down at the long black satin formal gloves Karma

had given me to hide the gruesome scar. The swollen skin throbbed

against the fabric, and I couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

“Painful but not unbearable.”

The elevator slid to a stop, and we disembarked into a marble-

tiled corridor. The DJ’s beat was strong enough to cause the walls

to pulse, as though we had walked into the heart of a massive stone

beast. No guards were stationed here, but I had no doubt that we

were under video surveillance.

The hallway curved left and then right before ending at a set of

marble doors. The flickering lamps highlighted veins of silver and

gold within the milky rock. As we drew closer, the doors slid open

to reveal a crowded dance floor in full frenzy.

I took a deep, steadying breath. “Do you think she knows I’m

here?”

Karma led us just inside and pointed up at the glass cube that

projected diagonally out into the airspace above the dance floor. Its

surfaces reflected the lights and movements of the dancers, and I

had to look away or risk becoming dizzy.

“That’s Valentine’s office. If she didn’t know already, she does

now.”

“Let’s give ourselves a tour,” I suggested, wanting to canvass

the perimeter of the dance floor in case we had to make some kind

of hasty exit. Together, we moved around the periphery, taking note

of security personnel stationed at regular intervals. But there was

no visible back door—not even an emergency exit. My panther

growled in protest and Karma and I shared a strained look. We were

well and truly trapped.

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As we returned full circle to the doors, Solana grasped my right

shoulder. “Look,” she said, gesturing back the way we had come.

An elevator was sliding down the elaborate network of cables

along the side of the room that extended all the way up into a narrow

passage cut into the vaulted ceiling. Made of the same material as

the cube, it glittered like a gigantic strobe as it descended to the

dance floor.

Karma shot me a wry smile. “You’ve called the goddess down

from Olympus.”

My heart was galloping, but the rest of me was frozen. Even

my panther held perfectly still, waiting. Waiting for our mate.

The doors opened to reveal Valentine looking for all the world

like a fallen angel. She was dressed in black from head to toe: a

collared shirt perfectly tailored to the contours of her torso, and

button-fly leather pants that clung to her muscular legs like a second

skin. Heavy motorcycle boots completed the outfit, and I felt my

mouth go dry at the aura of power and confidence that filled the air

around her.

She headed directly for us, her gaze homing in on mine as

though I was the only person in the room. Her golden hair was

not set in spikes tonight, but fell in feathered waves across her

forehead, and I longed to let the soft strands run through my fingers

while I kissed her. Just a few short weeks ago, I would have tried

to talk myself out of such thoughts—to impress upon my heart

the need to be hard and unyielding. But not now, when her eyes

were glittering with lust and thirst only for me. Not now, when I

was poised to restore compassion and empathy to her handsome

features.

“Alexa.” She spoke my name like a magic word, but then a

shutter fell over her expression, as though she realized her voice had

betrayed too much. “Welcome to Tartarus.”

I had to swallow before I could reply, and I wondered if she had

noticed. The absurdity of making small talk in this situation made

me feel as though I were having an out-of-body experience. “Thank

you.”

• 170 •

nightrise

The world narrowed, telescoping down until it contained only

us. I had forgotten how blue her eyes were—the deep, clear blue of

a sunlit summer sky she could no longer see. But after tonight, she

would no longer be bound to the darkness.

“Why have you come?” Her tone was curious, but suspicion

showed in the rigidity of her stance.

I had prepared an answer and gestured toward Solana. “Karma

and I are entertaining a visitor from abroad. Solana Carrizo showed

me great hospitality on a recent trip to South America, and I wanted

to return the favor.”

Val glanced between Solana and me, her expression wary. Did

she think we were involved? Was she jealous? The idea pleased me,

and I took a step closer. When she focused back in on me, a rush of

heat surged down my spine at the possessiveness that sharpened the

planes of her face.

“I hope you enjoy your night,” she said, the words intended

for Solana but her gaze never leaving mine. “Your drinks are on the

house.” She took a step backward and extended one hand. “Dance

with me.”

Once again, the rest of the world receded. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

I let my gloved fingertips skim her palm as I took her hand and

was gratified to feel a subtle shiver course beneath her skin. I was

affecting her strongly. Good.

Despite the strength of that brief contact, we didn’t touch at

first. She danced better than I remembered, her body an extension

of the beat. Her focus never wavered, and I felt as though we had

somehow traveled back in time—back to the early days of our

courtship when we had wanted each other with a shared ferocity so

unexpected, so unique, that we had forced ourselves to move slowly.

But tonight, slow wasn’t going to work. After a while, I turned

my back to her. She took the invitation to cup my waist and pull

me close, and I sighed as she wrapped her arms around me. I had

to remind myself then that this wasn’t my Valentine. She felt the

same—the same taut muscles, the same coiled strength, the same

cool scent that inflamed my desire while promising to soothe it. And

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yet, for all the passion I’d seen in her eyes, there was none of the

warmth I had loved.

Her mouth brushed first my temple, then my ear lobe. “Where’s

Olivia?”

“Olivia?” Confused, I tried to face her, but her grip was firm.

“You’ve been practically inseparable for weeks, and then you

took that trip together. Why isn’t she here with you?”

Surprise trumped my indignation. Valentine thought Olivia and

I might be a couple. She had been spying on me. Perhaps I should

have felt violated, but her obsession only increased my confidence.

“She said she wasn’t feeling well.” The white lie was easy.

“But maybe she didn’t want to see me with you.”

“With me.” Val grew silent then, and I was just about to break

free of her hold when her breath once again cascaded over the

sensitive shell of my ear. “Why did you really come here tonight?”

My heart careened wildly in my chest until I reminded myself

that there was no way she could know our plan. She did, however,

know me better than anyone else in the world, and she could tell

when I was holding back. So I didn’t.

“I missed you. I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

She pulled me closer, her hands tracing spirals on my stomach.

“That’s not what you said the last time we saw each other.” She

sucked my ear lobe between her lips, then grazed it lightly with her

teeth. My knees quaked, and she felt it. “What’s changed?”

“I have.” Somehow, I managed not to stammer. As my pulse

accelerated, so did the throbbing in my arm, but my panther seemed

as enthralled by Val’s seduction as I was. Our mate’s proximity had

soothed her panic into a state of high alertness.

Val’s hands edged higher until her thumbs were ever so lightly

brushing the undersides of my breasts. I couldn’t contain a tiny gasp,

and as the sound left my throat, I knew it was time to surrender.

I turned, melding my thighs to hers and threading my good arm

around her neck. And then I confessed.

“I need you, Valentine.”

Triumph flared in her face before thirst trumped it. “I have a

room up—”

• 172 •

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I pressed two fingers to her mouth, silencing her. “Not here. I

want to be in your bed.”

She searched my gaze and found whatever she was looking

for, because she leaned down and kissed me slow and deep. Her lips

stole my reason and her tongue stole my breath, and by the time she

pulled away to whisper that a car would be waiting for us upstairs, I

would have followed her anywhere.

❖

By the time we reached the black Rolls Royce, my head had

cleared a little. I needed to take some power back, and as soon as

Val had settled herself on the leather seat bench, I climbed on top of

her and proceeded to lavish her neck with long kisses and tiny bites.

Every time I set my teeth in her skin, she released a guttural groan.

Her sounds of abandon inflamed me, and I bit down hard enough to

mark her.

“Did you ever touch Olivia like this?” she gasped harshly.

When I didn’t answer right away, she caught my breasts in her

palms and ran her thumbs across my nipples, wringing a cry from

my throat. “Did you?”

“Never. Not once.” My words were breathless. “Not even a

kiss. There hasn’t been anyone since you.”

She growled her satisfaction, and before I could protest, I found

our positions reversed. For one breathtaking moment, she loomed

over me, sensually menacing, before dipping her head to trace the

pulsing veins in my neck and throat with her tongue. Teasing me,

even as she teased herself.

Her driver had us in Soho inside of ten minutes. He pulled

over at the side entrance of a tall brick structure boasting elaborate

wrought iron balconies and large windows on every floor. The

penthouse level was set off by a gleaming white cornice illuminated

by the waning moon. For a moment, I felt a wave of nostalgia for

the days early in our relationship when Valentine and I had spent

Saturdays roaming lower Manhattan visiting luxury real estate open

houses. The apartments we’d seen then had inspired dreams for the

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future. Perhaps some of those dreams would now come true. If this

worked.

She held me close while guiding us to the door. As she fished

out her key chain, I worked my hand beneath the hem of her pants,

sweeping my fingers back and forth across her lower abdomen. She

groaned and dropped her keys.

“What are you doing to me,” she breathed, hands shaking as

she crouched to retrieve them.

“Showing you how much I want you,” I said, molding myself

to the length of her back as I followed her inside.

Once the doors of her elevator had closed, she pushed me up

against the back wall and devoured my mouth. If not for the spike of

agony that seared down my left arm as she held me pinned, I would

have lost control of myself completely. But the pain reminded me

that I had a job to do, and that I needed to do it before she decided to

undress me. If my wound was revealed, the gruesome sight would

freeze the ardor between us, especially since it would rouse her

suspicions about why I hadn’t simply shifted and healed.

She kept a firm grip on the key this time, turning the lock with

superhuman speed. I was aware only of an oak-paneled foyer and

the faint scent of salt water before she had me pressed up against the

inside of the door, one leg between mine. Hands braced on either side

of my head, she thrust with short, sharp movements that rocketed

me toward ecstasy. She was wild for me, a creature possessed by a

hunger beyond the physical. I could see it in the ferocity of her eyes,

in the tautness of her lips, and I threaded my hands in her hair to pull

her mouth to mine.

In that moment, I realized that despite the emotional distance

that had grown between us, our bodies were reacting on a wholly

instinctual level. The chemistry between us was a law of nature that

could not be denied. We would always be attracted to one another,

always attuned, but I was about to use that power to make a choice

for Val. She had been turned involuntarily, transfused involuntarily,

and she had certainly never wanted to become a full vampire. Now

I was poised to take another decision from her, and I couldn’t.

I refused to join the ranks of people like Helen and Clavier and

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the Missionary—people who had made life-altering choices for

Valentine to serve their own ends. If I was going to go through with

this, I needed to know that somewhere, deep down in her essential

self, Val still needed me just as much as I did her.

I wrenched her head back and stared up into her dark, fathomless

eyes. “What do you want, Valentine?”

Confusion momentarily eclipsed her frenzied desire. “You. I

want you. All of you.”

She moved to bridged the gap between us, but I held her back.

“How badly do you want to taste me?”

Her eyes grew darker and the muscles in her jaw tightened

spasmodically. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

Again, she tried to lunge forward, and again, I stopped her. The

tendons in her neck strained as she pushed against me.

“Let me have you!”

Drunk on the power I held over her, I only tightened my grip.

“I’m the one you crave, Val. I’m the one you need. I’m the one you

can’t be without. What would you give to drink from me forever?”

She growled possessively and bared her sharpened teeth.

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Just you,” I whispered, finally releasing my grasp.

The force of her kiss slammed me against the wall, but I felt

no pain. Exhilaration swept me at her confession, and my lingering

doubts fell away. When she reached down to stroke my inner thigh,

I gasped my assent. But when her teeth scraped along my jaw line,

I begged. “Please, Val!”

Despite my ulterior motives, my plea was the truth. Beyond her

touch, I needed her teeth in my throat and my blood running down

hers. The ultimate connection. I tugged urgently at the nape of her

neck.

“Do it. Touch me. Bite me. I need to feel you everywhere.”

Triumph sang through me at the welcome flash of pain, at the

hollowing sensation of my blood being drawn between her lips. At

her broken moan that belied the potency of my taste. And as she

drank, she filled me with her fingers, my body stretching to welcome

her home.

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Ecstasy crashed over me then, tearing a scream from my vocal

cords, and the climax battered me like ocean waves against the

shore. I clutched at her shoulders, desperate to keep her inside of

me.

Please, I thought dimly. Please let this bring her back.

A moment later, her body went suddenly stiff. I looked down to

see panic in her eyes, but her throat continued to spasm. Something

was happening, but she couldn’t make herself stop drinking.

Finally, she wrenched herself away, my blood trickling over her

chin and onto the wooden floor as she stumbled backward. I sagged

against the wall, wanting to move but not trusting my strength.

“Val,” I managed to whisper, every other word beyond me.

Confusion and fear warred on her face, and she held up a hand

as though to fend me off.

“What—” she choked out. “What did you—”

And then she collapsed to the floor.

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Chapter eighteeN

Moments later, she began to convulse. I rushed across the

hall and nearly panicked at the sight of the red-flecked

foam that had collected at the corners of her mouth. As quickly as

the spasms had come, they abated. Her body was still.

“Oh God, Val.”

Hastily, I felt for breathing and a pulse before turning her onto

her side so she wouldn’t choke. Her vital signs seemed strong, but

Solana had never mentioned anything about going into seizures.

Then again, she had probably been unconscious for this part, too.

I scrambled for my phone and punched speed dial for Karma.

“It’s done. She passed out, but she had some sort of seizure.”

The sounds of the street filtered through the receiver as Karma

updated the others. In another moment, Solana had taken her place.

“Is she breathing?”

“Yes. Are you at the door?”

“We are.”

“I’ll let you in as soon as I figure out how it works.” I hung up

and scanned the wall for some kind of intercom, finally finding one

just off the kitchen. After buzzing them inside, I knelt beside Val and

ran my fingers lightly through her hair, my heart throbbing rapidly

in time with my arm.

“Your last thought was that I’d betrayed you,” I murmured. “But

you’re going to wake up from this, and when you do, I hope you can

see things differently. I hope you can understand why I did it.”

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A tear fell from the corner of my eye onto her cheek, and

I smoothed the tiny drop into her skin. “There was a time when

you wanted me, and only me, for eternity. And I let you down by

going away and putting your soul in jeopardy. So this is my chance,

sweetheart—my chance to give you back the only thing you’ve

actively chosen since you were turned. Me. Us. Ever after.”

The front door chimed and I reluctantly left Val’s side long

enough to answer it. Solana went to Val immediately.

“How is she?” Karma asked.

But Olivia was staring at me in horror. “Christ, Alexa, you look

like you’ve been mauled! What did she do to you?”

Her reaction wasn’t exactly unfounded. I was a mess. My dress

was in disarray and a stream of blood had caked on my neck and

collarbone. My eyes were probably red and puffy. I raised one hand,

hoping to calm her down, only to notice that my fingers were trembling.

Karma was now looking at me in concern. “Alexa, how much

did she take?”

“Not very much,” I said, then winced as a streak of shooting

pain traveled along my arm. “The scar is starting to feel worse,

though. And I’m very thirsty.”

Olivia stalked to the kitchen, and a moment later I heard the tap

running. Karma laid the back of her hand to my forehead. “You’re

warm.”

I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of Val. “Once I shift, I’ll

be fine. How is she, Solana?”

“As well as can be expected. I am not worried.”

“That makes one of us,” I said before gratefully accepting

the glass of water Olivia held out to me. “How long were you

unconscious when you went through this?”

“Several days,” Solana said. “But remember: I ate the flower’s

roots. Valentine has consumed its essence in your blood, and the

blood of a Were is the greatest healing elixir I know.”

“So she might wake sooner.”

Solana shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Fire seared up my arm, a sudden blaze so intense I couldn’t

hold back a gasp. My panther shoved hard, wanting her claws and

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teeth instead of this fragile human body. As the pain worsened, her

strength grew and mine weakened.

“Alexa?” Karma was kneeling beside me now, one hand on my

knee. Olivia stood over us, her anger displaced by alarm.

“Need to shift.” I forced the words out between gritted teeth.

“Can you make it to the Consortium?” she asked.

“I’ll drive you,” Olivia added.

I nodded, then cut my gaze to Val. “Please don’t leave her

alone.”

“Of course not.” Karma gently took my right hand and helped

me up. “Go. We’ll call you with any updates.”

Fortunately, Olivia’s car was parked nearby. I focused on

breathing deeply and putting one foot in front of the other as the

periodic flashes of agony continued. When I slid into the passenger

seat, my left arm brushed against the seat back and the resulting

spike of pain was so intense that tears leaked down my cheeks.

Olivia got into the driver’s side, and I braced my good arm

against the glove box to hold myself steady as she peeled away from

the curb.

“I’ll try to make this a smooth ride,” she said.

“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say, especially given

her mercurial moods ever since we’d gotten home. “I mean it, Liv.

Thank you. For everything.”

For a long time, she didn’t reply. I examined her profile as

she expertly navigated the late night streets of the East Side—the

delicate sweep of her cheekbones, the elegant strength of her jaw.

She was beautiful, and in a parallel universe, I could have fallen in

love with her. But in this reality, I was claimed. And it didn’t matter

that my soul mate was a vampire, or that she was lying on the floor

of her apartment a broken, bloody mess. She was mine. I was hers.

I would fight for us as long as I had to.

Olivia pulled up at Consortium Headquarters in record time,

and I sighed in relief. But just as I was about to thank her yet again,

she spoke.

“Have dinner with me.”

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Taken aback, I didn’t respond right away. I had just taken

extraordinary measures—even for a shifter—to save Valentine. I

was bloodied and feverish and my panther was a hairsbreadth away

from emerging. And this was the moment she had chosen to ask me

on a date?

“I can’t, Olivia.”

“Breakfast, then.” She sounded almost desperate. “If Val hasn’t

woken up. We can go somewhere near her apartment. I just…I just

need to talk to you. Alone.”

The pain in my arm flared again, and I exhaled sharply. “Okay.

Breakfast.” I never would have acquiesced if I hadn’t been in her

debt, and my frustration at her insistence only fueled the panther’s

urgency. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go now.”

I didn’t look back as I jogged up the steps and into the building.

The receptionist was new, and I had to pause to show her my

identification before catching an elevator down to the hunting arena.

Once I reached the foyer, I took off my borrowed dress and the right

glove. My left arm was so swollen that the other glove was almost

cutting into the engorged skin. There was no salvaging it.

I stepped up to one of the doors and keyed in the code that

would unlock it. As it opened, I was greeted by a warm breeze and

the scent of flowering grass. For the first time since the full moon, I

relaxed my grip on my panther. And I smiled.

“Uje!”

Eager to escape the incessant pain, she was upon me in a flash,

and I imagined I could feel the flower’s roots disintegrating in the

whirlwind of my transformation. As my paws made contact with the

springy, moss-covered earth, I crouched low, tail lashing. A jumble

of scents quickly resolved: the rich, verdant aroma of growing

things; the faint musk of a lynx who had passed this way a few hours

ago; the tang of blood from someone’s recent kill.

A flash of motion to my right caught and held my focus. When

I spun toward it, I scented prey—a deer. I leapt into motion, earth

churning beneath the pads of my feet. After a zigzagging chase

through the forest fringe, the deer bounded into a small clearing. I

extended my body in ground-eating strides, determined to use the

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open space to narrow the gap between us. And then I caught the

other scent: a wolf off my left flank, also in pursuit. When I turned

my head slightly, a blur of brindle fur was visible though the tall

stalks of grass.

Two predators, one prey. I was not in the mood to share—

especially not with a wolf. When Sebastian’s face flickered before

my mind’s eye, I snarled and pushed harder.

The doe reentered the woods and began a dizzying series of

cuts back and forth between the closely-knit trees. I followed her,

reveling in my ability to mimic her movements, but the wolf, too,

was agile and had managed to keep pace. And then, without any

warning, the doe faltered. In that barest of pauses, I leapt, claws

unsheathing instinctively. They caught and held in the deer’s

hindquarters, and I dragged her down thrashing into the underbrush.

Narrowly avoiding her flailing hooves, I sank my teeth into her

throat. She twitched once and was still.

I looked up to see the wolf only a few yards away, saliva

dripping from his jaws. When he snarled, daring to assert a claim

over my kill, I lashed out. He barely dodged my swipe, and I settled

back onto my haunches to wait for him to try again. Hunger cramps

were twisting my belly into knots, but the moment my concentration

slipped would be the moment the wolf made his play.

Thankfully, his will was weaker than mine. The instant I saw

him focus on the kill instead of me, I sprang forward again, this time

scoring a hit across his shoulder. The three-point scratch was starkly

visible for an instant before blood welled up to cascade down his

front leg. Growling, he finally beat a retreat into the underbrush.

As soon as he was gone, I gorged myself on my kill. After such

a harrowing week, I was even hungrier than usual, and I caught

myself purring even as I ripped at the sinews of the corpse beneath

my paws. Strength and vitality returned to my muscles, and with

them came clarity of thought. Valentine could wake up at any

moment. My feline half wanted to doze in the artificial sun, but I

would have to wait to indulge her.

Leaves rustled in the direction the wolf had gone, and I growled

a warning. If he wanted to pick over whatever bones I left, he would

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have to wait a little longer. But when a large golden lion padded

into view, the snarl choked in my throat. I had never seen Malcolm

four-footed, but I had no doubt that he was standing before me now.

Slowly, I backed away from my kill. It was both an instinctual

and calculated move. I wanted to give the lion a wide berth, and I

wanted Malcolm to feed on what meat remained. He loomed over

the carcass, his red-gold mane framing liquid brown eyes above

a long, thick muzzle. Tail lashing, he regarded me silently before

finally bending to eat. It was impossible to tell whether he had

recognized me in any meaningful way, but I wanted to believe it.

We needed him back. He was our general and our rallying point

in the stand against Brenner. Without him, others would lose hope.

They might even defect.

Reflecting on his inability—or unwillingness—to shift made

me suddenly eager for my human form. I returned to the door and

let my desire to check in with Solana propel me into a painless

transformation. After Valentine recovered, there would be plenty of

time for me to indulge my inner feline. Maybe we could even return

to the cabin we’d rented last year in the Catskills for a much-needed

getaway. Val and I had found balance and harmony there before, and

perhaps some time away from the political chaos of the city would

help us as we reforged our relationship.

But I was getting ahead of myself. Solana seemed confident

that our plan had succeeded, but we couldn’t know for sure until

Val woke. My phone display indicated no missed calls or messages,

but I threw my clothes on hastily. I wanted to be back at her side. I

wanted her to feel loved, even if she couldn’t consciously perceive

it. I wanted to think of all the right things to say when she finally

opened her eyes. I wanted her to make me whole by awakening

healed.

As I walked toward the elevator, some impulse made me look

over my shoulder. Malcolm was padding into the small clearing in

front of the door, and I wondered if he had followed me deliberately.

I wanted to take it as a good omen and waited to see what he would

do. Had he witnessed my transformation? Was there any impulse

in him that wanted to take human form again? I waited for a few

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minutes, daring to hope that having seen me might trigger his shift,

but he only nosed around the door before returning to the shelter of

the trees.

I pressed my palm to the cool glass as he walked away. Malcolm

Blakeslee was so much more than a noble beast, but only time could

tell whether he would ever fully recover. In a way, his predicament

was similar to Valentine’s. She, too, had been separated from her

humanity—trapped by her physiological needs in a mentality that

rewarded dominance without compassion.

Right now, there was nothing I could do for Malcolm. But if

Solana was right and we had succeeded, Val’s body was even now

reverting back to its former state. Not wanting to spend another

moment separated from her, I turned back toward the exit.

❖

When Val’s status hadn’t changed by the following morning,

I grudgingly met Olivia at a French café around the corner from

Valentine’s apartment.

“How is Val?” she asked as I sat opposite her.

“Still unconscious.”

I looked down at the menu, wanting to order quickly so I could

get back. After I’d returned last night, Karma had left to check in

with Constantine, and Solana and I had moved Val to her bed. I’d

napped fitfully next to her, waking often to check that she was still

breathing.

Olivia cleared her throat into the awkward silence. “And how

about you? How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine.” I heard the note of incredulity in my own voice. This

latest display of my regenerative capabilities still felt miraculous.

I pushed up my sleeve and showed her the unbroken skin of my

forearm. “Better than fine.”

“Amazing.” Olivia lightly traced the spot where my scar had

been. “Like it never happened.”

Uncomfortable with her touch, I pulled away. “Any idea what’s

good here?”

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“Not a one.” She leaned over to point at the menu. “Though the

French toast is probably a sure thing.”

“I am hungry,” I conceded.

“You’re thinner than I’ve ever seen you. You should eat more.”

My temper flared at her presumption. “Excuse me?”

She had the decency to look ashamed. “I shouldn’t have said

that. I’m sorry.”

Despite her apology, I might have left if the waitress hadn’t

arrived at that moment. After we ordered, Olivia leaned forward.

“I’m doing this all wrong. Every time I try to tell you that I care

about you, the sentiment comes out horribly twisted.”

“I know you care about me. You’ve gone so far above and

beyond the call of duty for a friend, it’s absolutely mind-boggling.”

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “But?”

“But you know what I’m going to say. I belong to Val, Olivia.

And if that offends your twenty-first century, liberated woman’s

sensibilities, then fine. But that’s how it is. She’s who I want—who

I need. And I need you to respect that.”

To her credit, she met my gaze squarely. “I understand,” she

said after a long moment’s pause. Her smile was a little sad, a little

wistful. “It’s not easy to compete with Valentine Darrow.”

“Funny. She once said almost exactly the same thing about

you.”

Our food arrived then, and the French toast was indeed

delicious. I ate more quickly than I should have, and when Olivia

very deliberately turned the conversation to human politics, I was

happy to follow her lead. Until my phone rang. Solana.

“What’s happened?”

“She’s not awake yet, but she’s stirring.”

I reached for my wallet, ignoring Olivia’s vigorous head

shaking. “What does ‘stirring’ mean?”

“Mumbling incoherently. Twitching. REM.”

Rapid-eye movement? “So she’s asleep now, instead of

unconscious?”

“No,” said Solana. “I can’t wake her. But I think she’s

dreaming.”

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“I’ll be there in two minutes. Maybe less.”

When I hung up, Olivia forestalled my speech. “Go. If I can

help, you’ll tell me?”

“Yes. Of course.”

I raced from the restaurant back to Valentine’s apartment. When

I burst through the door, I rushed immediately to the bedroom.

Solana was sitting in a chair near Val’s head, and she stood as I

approached.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured, dropping to my knees and twining

my fingers with Val’s. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes were moving beneath the thin lids as though she was

searching for something. I leaned in to press my lips to hers.

“Wake up, Val. Come back to me.”

For a long moment, nothing happened. And then, as though we

were living a fairy tale, Valentine opened her eyes.

• 185 •

• 186 •

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Chapter NiNeteeN

Alexa?”

She spoke with a wistful uncertainty, as though she

didn’t know whether I was real. My vision swam, and I dashed away

the tears impatiently. I had to be strong.

“Hi, love.” I kissed her cheek and rubbed my thumb across her

knuckles. “How do you feel?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered the question. “Weak.

Thirsty. What hap—” She caught sight of Solana, then, and suddenly

a gun was in her hand. I jerked backward in shock, my panther

clamoring to shift. Despair threatened to overwhelm the hope that

had just begun to take root in my soul. Had I failed? Was she still a

full vampire?

“Who the fuck are you?” Val’s eyes had never left Solana, but

her voice held no fear. Miraculously, Solana also seemed calm.

“This is normal,” she said, her gaze not on Val’s weapon but

on me. “You don’t need to worry. Her body is in conflict and her

memories do not match her emotions. She’s disoriented.”

“The hell I am.” Val cocked the trigger. “Explain yourself.

Now.”

“My name is Solana Carrizo, and I’m a friend of Helen

Lambros. We met yesterday at your club.” When Val’s frowned

deepened, I knew the memories had not yet fully returned to her.

“Your confusion is a normal reaction to the flower,” Solana

continued.

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The pistol trembled ever so slightly. “What flower?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, daring to rest my hand on her thigh.

“Solana’s no threat to you or to us. Put down the gun, and I’ll tell

you everything.”

Slowly, Val lowered her weapon, and I sighed in relief as she

reengaged the safety. She rested her hand atop mine and turned to

face me. “You were in the club last night. I remember that much.”

“That’s a good sign.” I worked to keep my voice calm. “Try to

think back. What else?”

Several fraught seconds passed. “I remember dancing with

you.”

I dared to lightly brush my lips over hers. “Yes, we danced for

a long time. I love being in your arms that way.”

Val was shaking her head. “I wanted you so badly, but I couldn’t

have you. Why does it feel like I couldn’t have you?”

The anxiety in her voice tore at me. “I’m yours, love. I’ll

always be yours. Now and forever.” I took a deep, steadying breath.

“Can you remember a little further back? What brought you to the

club last night?”

Val squinted down at the tangled sheets. “I was there because…

because I needed to introduce Giselle to—” What little color had

been in her cheeks abruptly disappeared, and I clutched her hand

tightly.

“What just happened, sweetheart?” I asked, trying to keep my

tone soothing. For a moment there, she had seemed to be back on

the edge of unconsciousness. “You just got as pale as a ghost.”

She swallowed hard, looking everywhere but at me. “I turned

Giselle,” she finally whispered. “She wanted it, and I…I think I

might be sick.”

Even as my stomach tied itself into knots at the thought of

Valentine deliberately turning anyone, I felt a glimmer of relief. She

wouldn’t be contrite if she was still a full vampire, would she? I

traced the veins that swirled beneath the back of her hand. “You’re

okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She met my gaze, then, misery and confusion warring on her

face. “How can you say that? You, of all people?”

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nightrise

“I’ll get some water,” Solana said, clearly wanting to give us

time to talk privately.

As she left the room, I rose from the floor and sat next to Val on

the bed. She propped herself up on the pillows and I rested my hand

on her thigh, needing the contact. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I

said. “What you’re feeling. I can’t even begin to guess.”

She picked at a thread on the coverlet, her face a study in

confusion. “I don’t know where to start. I have all these memories,

but the emotions that go with them don’t fit. I transitioned, didn’t I?

Why am I feeling this way?”

“You did become a full vampire,” I said, struggling not to

betray the pain her question had caused me. Had I misinterpreted

her answer last night? A knot of dread rose into my throat at the

thought. “Last night, I brought you back. You have your soul again.

I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Finally, Val raised her head. Her eyes looked like bruises, dark

and anguished. “I never wanted to lose it in the first place. But I

don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

Solana must have been able to hear us, because she took that as

a cue to enter. After placing a tall glass of water on the nightstand,

she rested her palm briefly on Val’s shoulder. “Your mind is more

resilient than you think. Give yourself time to assimilate the past

with the present.”

Val nodded warily but didn’t reply. She reached for the glass

and drained it in a matter of seconds, but the tension didn’t ease

from her face, and I knew the water hadn’t done much good. She

didn’t need water; she needed more blood.

“I’ll be in the sitting room,” Solana said. She flashed me an

encouraging smile before leaving us alone, and I took heart in

her confidence. As she closed the door behind her, I leaned in to

press gentle kisses to each corner of Val’s mouth. Her distraught

expression was breaking my heart, and I wanted to do something

that would reassure her.

“I want you to drink from me.”

“Why?” she whispered, even as thirst flared in her eyes. “Why

do you want that? Do you have any idea what I’ve done?”

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I shifted on the bed until I had one hand braced on either side

of her waist, effectively trapping her. “I know enough. We’ll talk

about all that later. Right now, I want to be close to you and I want

for you to get well.”

When she still didn’t move, I cupped the back of her neck and

pulled her in to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “Taste me,

Val. Please.”

With a muffled groan, she slid her teeth into me. At the jolt of

pleasure-pain, I tugged at the short golden hairs beneath my fingers

and she gasped against my skin. My desire for her only grew the

longer she drank, but I forced myself to keep my touch platonic.

We couldn’t make love until we had at least begun to clear the air

between us. Tenderly, I stroked her shoulders and scalp, wanting her

to feel the lack of recrimination in my touch.

She withdrew sooner than I would have liked, but she didn’t

pull away. Instead, she kissed the tiny wounds until they closed,

then blazed a path to my ear with her mouth. “Thank you,” she said,

her breath tickling my sensitive lobe.

I tugged at her shirt collar until she put enough space between

us for me to see her eyes. They were clearer now, but still sorrowful.

“I’m married,” she said suddenly. “To Sebastian.”

My stomach soured and I let my hands fall away. “Believe me,

I know.”

“You saw the announcement?”

I nodded, deciding to hold off on telling her just how strongly

it had affected me. Now was not the time to add to her guilt. Instead,

I asked the question that had plagued me since reading that headline

in the Times.

“Do you love him?”

Val shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “What? No!

He came to me suggesting marriage as a business proposition. I did

it to get my inheritance.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

My heart thudded painfully when Val looked away, taking a

white-knuckled grip on the blanket. “Not the way you’re thinking.”

• 190 •

nightrise

Rage tinged my vision red, and I watched my own hands

tremble as I struggled to hold both it and my panther at bay. “What

does that mean?”

Val blew out a long sigh, and I fought to remain patient. “I

fucked him,” she said finally.

For a moment, surprise trumped my jealousy. “What?”

“He was the one who suggested the whole marriage thing, and

he pitched it to me as a business proposal. But a few weeks after

I went along with it, he started badgering me. For intimacy. I kept

putting him off and putting him off until I got tired of listening

to him whine.” She paused to scrub at her eyes with the heels of

her palms. “So I gave him a choice between…ah, that way and

nothing.”

My emotions were in turmoil. A part of me was still jealous,

because even Val topping Sebastian—as unorthodox as it might

have seemed—was still a violation of my claim on her. But I was

also intrigued, and more than a little impressed. He must have been

so angry. And yet…

“Did he like it?”

Shock again crossed her handsome features. “What? Alexa—”

“It’s a simple question, Val.”

She held my gaze this time, jaw clenching spasmodically. “He

liked it, yes. And he hated it at the same time.”

“Do you want to stay married to him?”

“No!” She took my hands and cradled them in her own. “I don’t

want anyone but you.”

Satisfied that she meant every word, I curled up along her side,

tucking my head beneath her chin. When her arms came around me,

I relaxed into her.

“Marrying Sebastian isn’t all I’ve done,” she said fretfully.

“I know. But I don’t want to hear any more just now. Let’s sleep

for a while.”

“All right,” she whispered, daring to dip her hands beneath the

hem of my sweater to caress the skin of my lower back. “All right.”

❖

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When I woke an hour later, Valentine was still sleeping soundly.

It was a testament to her exhaustion that I was able to disentangle

myself without waking her. I stepped into the bathroom to check my

phone messages. Karma had texted asking for an update, and I typed

out a quick answer before calling Olivia.

“Hi,” she said tentatively. “What’s up? How’s Val?”

“She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting,” I said. “There’s

a lot to discuss.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Actually, yes. She needs a divorce lawyer. A good one,

equipped to handle large sums of money and who can work fast.

Can you recommend anyone?”

If Olivia was surprised, she didn’t let on. “Of course. If I e-mail

the names, will that be okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Liv. I owe you.”

After ending the call, I found Solana in the living room, sitting

on the loveseat and reading. I collapsed into a nearby armchair.

“How is she?”

“Still confused. There’s a lot she still needs to work through,

but she’s strong. We both are.”

“You both are.” She smiled ruefully. “The kind of love you

share happens only once in a lifetime. Don’t let it slip away—

especially not now.”

I wondered if she was thinking of Helen, and it suddenly struck

me that I had never seen Solana feed. Perhaps she had found a

willing human at the club last night. “How are you? Do you have

everything you need?”

But before she could answer, Val entered the room wearing

NYU sweats and a faded gray T-shirt. She looked soft and vulnerable,

and it struck home that against all odds, I had gotten her back. This

was my Valentine—the one who was sweet as well as sexy, rumpled

as well as rapacious.

When she saw me, relief softened her features. Somehow, I

was going to have to convince her that I was not going to leave—no

matter what she told me next.

• 192 •

nightrise

“Hi,” she said, looking around uncertainly. “Ah. Can I offer

anyone a drink?”

I rose from the chair and went to her, resting my hand on her

sternum as I leaned up to kiss her. “It’s a little early for a drink,

unless you want to make mimosas.”

As I spoke, Solana got to her feet and went to the window. The

room brightened only infinitesimally as she drew back the curtains

to a reveal dark clouds above the cityscape. An unrealized tightness

eased in my chest as the sky was unveiled and my panther purred

in approval.

“I have no idea what time it is,” Val was saying. “The bank

must be frantic by now.”

“Do you need to go in?”

She kissed my forehead before stepping away to grab her

laptop from the counter. “Let me just check my inbox. I’ll go in

later.” She sat on the vacated couch. “Will you come with me? I’d

like to show it to you.”

“I’d like to see it.”

I joined Solana at the window, where she was examining the

impressive view. Val had a clear line of sight from the Empire State

Building to the spires of Wall Street—a breathtaking panorama of

steel and sky.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I told Solana quietly. “Your

generosity made this possible.”

She smiled. “I’m only paying forward the generosity that was

shown to me so many years ago.”

We stood in silence for a few more moments, watching the

clouds swirl over the rooftops of Manhattan. They seemed to be

breaking up. Slim shafts of sunlight fell at various points throughout

the city, as though heaven was shining down a spotlight.

“Have you considered going to see Helen?” I asked. I didn’t

want to pry, but I also didn’t want her to feel as though she had to

stay here with us.

“I have.” For once, she seemed uncertain, casting a sidelong

glance at me as if unsure of how much she should say. “Truthfully,

I’m concerned she might not want to see me.”

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“How do you know her?” Val asked. She had closed her laptop

and was looking at us curiously.

“We were lovers briefly at the turn of the twentieth century,”

said Solana. “In Argentina, where she was consolidating power at

the time.”

Val didn’t outwardly react, but I could tell she was surprised. “I

agree with Alexa,” she said. “Helen is under a great deal of stress at the

moment, and she needs every ally she can get. You should go to her.”

Solana’s expression turned wistful. “Perhaps.”

At that moment, the clouds broke above us, and a wide swath

of sunshine streamed into the room. Val’s face registered horror as

she instinctively raised her arm against the light. Even across the

room, I could hear the thunder of her panicked heartbeat. In another

second, I was at her side, triumph singing through my veins even

as I tried to comfort her. She wasn’t burning. The flower had fully

worked its miraculous transformation.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Remember?” I stroked her arm, then

gently pushed it away from her eyes. “The sun won’t hurt you now.”

Gradually, her pulse slowed and the harsh gasps of her breaths

quieted. Wonder replaced the fear on her face. She grasped my hand

tightly, then stood and led me back to the window.

“God,” she breathed, closing her eyes and turning her face fully

into the light. “I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it.”

I slid my arms around her and rested my head over her heart.

“Welcome back, love.”

We stood there for several minutes, simply appreciating the

warmth and the brightness, until Solana turned away. “I’ll do it,”

she said, and I wondered if watching Val’s return to the light had

somehow inspired her. “Right now. I’ll go to see her.”

“If you need any help getting access to her, call us,” Val said as

Solana collected her belongings, and I felt a small thrill at her use of

the plural pronoun.

“I will. But I think, despite the dire situation, that she will see

me once she hears my name.” We followed her into the foyer, where

she paused to inspect her reflection. “You see, she still believes me

to be dead.”

• 194 •

nightrise

“I wouldn’t mind being a fly on that wall,” said Val as we

returned to the living room. “Do you know her story?”

She propped herself against the armrest of the couch and I

settled between her legs with her arms around me. It was such a

familiar configuration for us, but I knew I’d never take it for granted.

When I turned to meet her eyes, I could tell she was thinking the

same thing.

“You feel so good,” I admitted. “There were times when I lost

hope of ever having you back.”

“I’m right here. Thanks to you.” She stroked my stomach and

kissed the top of my head. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.

You saved me again, baby.”

“Solana played a significant role,” I said, launching into the

story of our trip to South America. By the time I had finished, Val

and I were stretched out on our sides facing each other and she was

looking at me incredulously.

“How long do the effects of the flower last?”

I stroked her face lightly, craving the physical contact with her.

“No one knows. Up until now, Solana has eaten the roots monthly.

She’s not sure what will happen to her now that she’s skipped a

month.”

“And I didn’t eat the roots at all,” Val mused. “Both of us need

answers, and soon. I’ll go to Headquarters and run some blood tests

to see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

“Right now?” I tried to keep the dismay out of my voice. I

didn’t want to move. Ever.

Val laughed. “No way. I’m not letting you up.”

I nipped at her chin. “Oh? You think you’re in charge, here?” I

wriggled closer and slipped one leg between hers. “You know, we’re

finally alone now.”

But instead of inspiring a kiss as I’d hoped, my words made her

look away, over my shoulder. I swallowed down a surge of dread.

“What is it?”

“Something else I need to tell you.” She rubbed a strand of my

hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Over the past few months,

I’ve turned three people.”

• 195 •

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“Who else besides Kyle and Giselle?”

“Tonya. She worked in the Consortium’s medical wing.”

Her confession rattled me more than I would have liked.

I closed my eyes briefly, as though I could somehow escape the

visions of her drinking from them. Touching them. “Did you sleep

with them, too?”

“Not with Kyle. But I…with the women, yes.”

“You made them come?” I asked, unable to keep the harshness

from my voice.

“Yes.”

“Did they make you come?”

“No. I didn’t let them touch me. That’s not what turning them

was about.”

I sat up, and when she tentatively rested her hand on my

shoulder, I stood. “I need a minute.”

Sensing my discomfort, the panther had become agitated. I

went to the window and rested my palms against the sill, watching

the wind drive the clouds across the sky. Her news didn’t come

as a surprise, but hearing my suspicions confirmed was a blow

nonetheless. I hurt, and I didn’t know how to stop.

“Alexa,” she called softly. When I turned, I found her curled

into corner of the couch, arms encircling her knees. “Talk to me.”

“I know I have to accept that you…what you did,” I said,

fumbling for the right words. “But I can’t help but feel betrayed,

even though it’s irrational.”

Val looked stricken, and silence reigned between us until

she visibly pulled herself together. “I’m only going to say this

once,” she said, “because otherwise I’ll never say anything else.

I’m sorry for all the ways in which I hurt you over the past few

months. Most of all, I’m sorry that I ever turned to anyone else for

my needs. You’re the one I really need. The only one. You always

have been.”

The earnestness in her voice and the determination that

suffused her face made it impossible for me to stay away any longer.

I returned to the couch and held out my hand, wanting nothing more

than to move past this moment.

• 196 •

nightrise

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I never hurt you

like that again,” she said as she slid her palm against mine. “You’ll

never, ever have to doubt how much I love you. How much I need

you.”

I didn’t reply, only tugged at her hand. When she stood, I led

her back into the bedroom. Jealousy still roiled in my chest, stoking

my desire to claim her. I pointed to the bed.

“Sit down.”

Her unquestioning obedience ratcheted up my pulse. Feet

dangling, her chiseled arms braced against the mattress, she awaited

my next command with a painfully eager expression.

“No touching,” I said as I approached, before proceeding to

divest her of the T-shirt and sweats.

“Please,” she said once she was naked, “let me undress you.”

“I said no touching.” I pulled off my shirt and slid out of my

jeans, revealing a simple black bra and matching panties.

“So beautiful,” Val whispered.

“And you are still the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.” I pushed

her legs apart so I could stand between them. “You’re also mine. I’m

going to remind you of that.”

When she cupped my waist, I reached down and firmly moved

her hands back onto the bed. “What part of ‘no touching’ don’t you

understand?”

“Please.” Her eyes were feverish. “Please let me.”

“No. Keep your hands on the mattress, or I’ll stop.”

I leaned in to kiss her, then, and took my time of it—a whisper-

soft brush of my lips against hers, over and over until she lost control

and her tongue flicked out to tease me. I allowed it, allowed her in,

and paid her back in kind. Clutching her head between my palms, I

feasted on her mouth, then trailed my lips across her jaw and down

the column of her neck.

I bit her where she’d bitten me this morning, not hard enough

to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. When she cried out, I did

it again. And then I stepped back.

“No, please,” she breathed. “Where are you—”

• 197 •

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I cut her off by grasping one rose-colored nipple between my

thumb and forefinger. “I’m not going anywhere, Val. Not without

you, not ever again. I promise.”

I twisted lightly and her eyes fluttered shut. When I brought my

other hand into play, she groaned. I teased her for minutes, alternating

the pressure of my fingers until her lips were parted and her face was

flushed and her hips were rocking against the comforter.

I dropped to my knees and replaced my fingers with my mouth,

swirling my tongue around her while stroking the taut skin of her

stomach. As I moved closer to the juncture of her thighs, she began

to beg.

“I love how you want me,” I said, massaging the tight ridge of

muscle framing her abdomen.

“Need you,” she corrected me, panting. “So bad. You’re the

only one I need.”

“That’s right.”

I slid my fingers home to find her hot and wet and tight. She

cried out as I entered her and collapsed back on her elbows. When I

dipped my head to taste her, she screamed my name.

Another time, I would tease her. We would go slowly and gently

with each other. I would cherish her for hours and we would slip

effortlessly between laughing and kissing, claiming and cuddling.

Another time. Not now, when I so desperately had to prove to her

that we belonged together despite all of the many obstacles that

had come between us. The politics, the distance, her descent into

darkness—none of it mattered. None of it would ever matter. I

reminded her of our truth as I murmured my love against her most

sensitive skin.

When I finally allowed the ecstasy to find her, she whispered

my name over and over, trembling. Her body clenched around me,

pulling me even deeper inside, and tears spilled down her face to

anoint the bed covers.

After her body quieted, I stretched out next to her and tenderly

wiped away the tear tracks from her cheeks. She opened her eyes

and her smile was brilliant, without any hint of guilt.

“I love you, Valentine,” I said, claiming a gentle kiss.

• 198 •

nightrise

“And I love you. More than anything.” She propped herself up

on one arm and traced the skin just above my breasts. “Do I get to

touch you now?”

I rolled onto my back, urging her on top of me. “As much as

you want, for as long as you want.”

Her smile turned dangerous. “Good. Because I want.”

Despite the ferocity of her expression, she made love to me

in a slow, reverent exploration that set my every nerve aflame. Her

mouth and her hands moved in counterpoint across the planes of my

skin, rekindling the passion at the very heart of us. She teased me

with soft strokes of her hands and mouth for what felt like hours,

until I was incandescent with the need for her to fill me. And when

she did, her teeth and her touch conspired to finally make me whole

again.

Afterward, we lounged like cats on a sun-warmed rock.

Eventually, she turned me over and gave me a long massage, working

the knots out of my back and shoulders with practiced hands. When

she began to pepper my back with kisses, I purred, feeling content

for the first time in months.

“I love that sound,” she said. And then, after a beat, “I love

you.”Her fingers wandered down the slope of my back until I felt

myself go liquid beneath her teasing touch. “I love you. And I want

you again.”

“That’s good,” she said, shifting my left knee up on the bed to

grant herself better access. “Because I’m going to take you again,

right now.”

With excruciating slowness, she pushed two fingers into my

body. By the time she was buried as deep as she could go, I was

keening into her pillow.

“Feel me, Alexa,” she murmured as she thrust. “Feel me inside

you. One with you.”

I turned my head and gasped for air just in time to shout her

name as she brought me over the edge into ecstasy.

• 199 •

• 200 •

nightrise

Chapter tweNty

We dozed. We made love again. Finally, as the late after-

noon light began to wane, we wandered into the kitchen

in search of food. While I scavenged, Val checked her phone

messages and placed a few calls.

Her fridge didn’t yield much, but I was able to find eggs and

a small wedge of cheese that could serve as the basis for omelets.

In her pantry I scrounged up an onion, then moved on to the fruit

bowl where I found an avocado and a tomato. And an extravagant

diamond ring. Its large, square-cut diamond was set into a platinum

band that was itself partially encrusted with smaller diamonds.

When I held it up to the overhead light, it sparkled like a crown

jewel. My temper flared and the panther snarled as I realized who

this must have come from.

“What is this?”

Val looked sheepish. “Sebastian gave it to me. He insisted on

taking some pictures while I was wearing it.”

“Why is it in your fruit bowl?”

She got up and cautiously slid her arms around my waist. “I

don’t know. I remember taking it off as soon as his damn photo op

was over, and I guess that’s where it ended up.”

“Is it real?”

“I assume so.” She kissed the nape of my neck, then rested her

chin on my shoulder. “Want to come with me when I give it back

to him?”

• 201 •

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“Oh yes. Yes. When?”

Val spun me to face her. “Right now.”

I studied her face, seeing nothing but sincerity. “What will you

say to him?”

“That this so-called marriage is over and he’ll soon be paid a

visit from my divorce attorney.”

My anger began to melt away, and I leaned up to kiss her. “I’ve

already asked Olivia for recommendations. Her list is probably in

my e-mail.”

“Good. Let’s pick one out together and see if we can get a

meeting tonight.”

Just as I was about to claim another kiss, the intercom buzzed.

Val looked over at the microwave clock and pulled away reluctantly.

“Those will be the dogs.”

“Dogs? You own dogs?”

She held up one hand as she had a brief conversation with the

person at the door—a man whom she referred to as Brandt. “Two

Dobermans,” she said after buzzing him in. She turned back to me

with a grin. “My head of security at the club suggested them after

Brenner’s first assassination attempt. But mostly, I got them because

Sebastian hated the idea.”

“I like them already.”

The man who stood at the front door holding the leashes of two

black and tan Dobermans was tall and lanky with a patchy beard. He

handed the dogs over to Val with a promise to be looking out for her

call about when he could next pick them up. The dogs entered the

apartment eagerly, but halted as soon as they saw me. As one, they

began to growl.

“Edward. Jacob. Settle.” The dogs stopped making noise

immediately, but they didn’t relax their wary stances.

“You named your dogs Edward and Jacob?” I asked, feeling

the last remnants of my jealousy fade.

Val’s smile grew wider. “Well, yeah.”

I crouched down to be at their level and released my grip on the

panther just enough to let them see exactly what was lurking behind

my eyes. Immediately, they dove onto their bellies, whimpering softly.

• 202 •

nightrise

“That’s right, dogs,” I said conversationally, holding my hand

out for them to sniff. “I’m in charge.” As they slunk closer and

began to lick my fingers, I looked up at Val. “Ah…you do know that

‘Edward’ is female, right?”

“Mm. She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”

Laughing, I stood and threw my arms around her neck. “I think

I just fell more in love with you.”

Val reached down to scratch between the dogs’ ears. “I never

thought I’d say this, but, Edward, I am in your debt.”

She kissed me, then—a series of soft, lingering kisses that

made me melt against her. “I love you,” she murmured. “Let’s look

through that list of attorneys, and then go pay Sebastian a visit.

Afterward, I can show you my bank.”

Exhilaration rushed through me at the prospect of taking such

important steps forward already. This was how things would be

from now on: Val and I, rebuilding our life together, creating even

stronger foundations than we’d had before. I pressed a kiss to the

soft fabric over her heart and nodded my assent.

❖

Night had fallen by the time we arrived at Luna, but it was still

too early for the club to be open. Val led us to the business entrance,

where we were admitted without search or question. After tonight, I

imagined, that would change.

As we rode the elevator up to the second floor, Val squeezed

my hand in reassurance. I had expected her to be the anxious one,

but she had remained calm—even while selecting a gun from her

extensive collection. When I’d asked why she wanted to bring one

at all, she had said only, “Insurance.”

The doors opened and we stepped out into a luxurious waiting

area. The ornate wall panels were fashioned out of some kind of dark

wood—mahogany, I thought—and the chairs were upholstered in a

sapphire-colored fabric. Sebastian’s secretary was a young, blond

werewolf who looked like she had just stepped out of a Victoria’s

Secret catalogue. She greeted Val with a long-suffering air and

informed her that she could see Sebastian whenever she liked.

• 203 •

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“What was that about?” I whispered as we walked down the

hall toward his office.

“Christina has the hots for Sebastian,” Val said. “She doesn’t

approve of me.”

“Today will be a happy one for her, then.”

When Val halted in front of the door to the corner suite, I

squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. My panther, already

on edge amongst so many unknown Weres, snarled at the scent of

Sebastian behind the doors.

Val bent to kiss me. “I love you,” she said, and the words

sounded confident and strong. After knocking and receiving the go-

ahead to enter, she pushed open the doors and I followed her inside.

Sebastian’s office had only one opaque wall. The rest were

made of glass to show off his view and, I suspected, to mollify his

wolf’s need for space. His profile was masculine and striking: dark,

wavy hair; thick eyelashes; strong chin. For a moment, I pictured

him as he must have looked at Valentine’s mercy: defiant yet

submissive, furious but aroused. Desire for her spiraled down my

spine, momentarily displacing my jealousy. Val would be tentative

with me for a while as we reestablished our dynamic. But someday

soon, I wanted her to take me with the same take-no-prisoners

attitude she had shown him.

As we entered the room, Sebastian looked up from his

desk, his mouth thinning in displeasure when he noticed me at

Valentine’s side. He pushed his chair back and crossed one leg

over the other.

“Last I heard, you two weren’t speaking. What’s the occasion?”

“The situation has changed.” Val withdrew the ring from her

pocket and tossed it to him. He automatically reached up to catch it.

“You and I are getting a divorce.”

His jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me.” Her tone was conversational, but steel

undergirded her words. “You can keep the half of my money to which

you’re entitled. Those were the terms of your business proposition,

and those will be my terms to end it. My attorney will bring you the

paperwork tomorrow.”

• 204 •

nightrise

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head.

“And if I refuse to sign?”

My panther hissed and spat, pushing hard for control. She

wanted to teach him a lesson—preferably a mortal one. But as

much as I wanted my teeth in his throat, I held her back. This was

Valentine’s fight. Faster than even my eyes could follow, she had

drawn her gun and was pointing it at his crotch.

“Here’s a curious question. If I shoot them off now, do you

think they’ll grow back after you shift?”

I almost laughed. Sebastian’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

Val smiled sweetly as she cocked her pistol. “You sure?”

I watched Sebastian battle down his wolf as he held Val’s gaze.

It didn’t take long for him to end their silent standoff. “Fine. I’ll sign

the fucking papers.”

“A wise decision.” Val put up her gun and pulled out her

keychain. She removed one of the keys and tossed that to him as

well. “I won’t be needing this either. See you around.”

She turned to go, but I wasn’t about to leave without saying

my piece.

“Stay away from her, Sebastian. If you personally need to get

in touch with her for any reason, you come through me. Are we

clear?”

His lip curled in a silent snarl. “Crystal. Now run along, kitty,

and enjoy your ball of string.”

“Oh, I plan to. You have a good night.”

As we walked back to the elevator, I remained on high alert,

but we left the building without incident. The night was warmer

than I’d anticipated—merely cool instead of bitingly cold—and the

reminder that spring was just around the corner made me smile.

Soon, the wintry bonds that had imprisoned the earth would dissolve

completely, and the air would be redolent with the green scent of

growing things. Now that Val was mine again, I could welcome the

spring without resentment.

Val linked her arm through mine as we made our way back to

her car. “That went pretty well, I thought. You?”

“It could have been much worse,” I acknowledged.

• 205 •

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The buzz of my phone interrupted our conversation, and I

looked down at the screen where Karma’s photograph was flashing.

“Hi, you.”

“Even your monosyllables sound happy,” she said, sounding

bemused. Val, whose keen ears had heard the words, caught my free

hand and squeezed gently.

“Thanks in large part to you,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“We’re good. Really good.” I wrapped Val’s arm around me

and leaned back against her chest. “I can’t thank you enough for all

your help. How are you holding up?”

“Brenner has Headquarters in chaos.” Tension crackled beneath

her words, and I felt a frisson of guilt. I’d been so preoccupied with Val

that I’d almost forgotten about Brenner and the hostage Sunrunners.

“There’s no new word on his movements?”

“Exactly the opposite. His people haven’t stopped moving. We

think they’re trying to mask where they’re taking the prisoners. The

security teams are going out of their minds.”

“You sound exhausted. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, short of finding a way to bring Malcolm back,” she

said wistfully. “We need him more than ever.”

“You know, I saw him yesterday.”

As I told her about my encounter in the arena, Val’s cell rang.

She dropped my hand and moved away a few paces. I heard her

murmuring into her phone but couldn’t make out the words. After a

few moments, she returned, sliding her arms around my waist. Her

embrace was at once comforting in its familiarity and exhilarating

in its newness. My breath caught and I covered her hands with my

own, slipping my fingers between hers.

“Hey,” she whispered against my ear. The sensation of her lips

against my earlobe sent tiny shivers coursing beneath my skin. I

knew she could feel them.

“I need to go, Karma.” Miraculously, my voice remained

steady as I told her not to hesitate to call if she needed anything.

After disconnecting, I leaned my head back against Val’s shoulder

and smiled as she kissed my neck.

• 206 •

nightrise

“How’s Karma?”

“Burned out. This waiting game is really getting to her. Who

were you talking to?”

“The divorce attorney. She’ll have the paperwork to Sebastian

tomorrow.” She guided me into the car and gave the driver an

address on the west side. “Ready to see my bank?”

“Mm.” I leaned into her and exhaled deeply in an effort to ease

the knots that had gathered between my shoulders, but I couldn’t

quite dispel my anxiety about Sebastian. “How do you feel about

getting a divorce?”

She seemed confused by the question. “I feel great. Relieved.

Free.” She pulled away enough to meet my gaze. “Did you think I

was going to feel sad?”

“I don’t know. You were married to him, after all.”

She grasped my chin gently. “Alexa, I need you to believe me

when I tell you that this thing with Sebastian…for me, it really was

all business. For him, I guess it wasn’t. But I don’t want him and

I never loved him. Marrying him was expedient so I could have

access to the kinds of capital I needed to get the bank on its feet.”

“I understand,” I said. “Really, I do. Thank you for being honest

with me.”

“I will always be honest with you. I swear it.” She pulled me

closer, and I watched the city roll by with my head cushioned on her

chest.

“Speaking of money,” she said a few minutes later, “I’d like to

hear your thoughts on what we should do with it.”

“Yours or mine?” When she regarded me quizzically, I told her

about Constantine’s generous gift. “I don’t have nearly as much as

you do, but I’m no longer in debt and my financial outlook is good.”

“That’s wonderful, baby.” Val’s mouth suddenly tightened in

determination. “Move in with me. Into my apartment in Soho, into

our apartment in the Village, into any place you want.”

I thrilled at the confidence in her request. “Of course I’ll move

in with you. And your new place is exquisite.” A sudden thought

made my eyes narrow. “Have you ever brought anyone there?

Tonya? Giselle?”

• 207 •

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Panic rose in her eyes. “No. No one. Ever.”

“So I’m the only one you’ve ever made love to in that bed.”

“The only one.”

“Good.” I considered our options as she combed her fingers

through my hair. “Let’s stay in your current apartment for now. We

can find a new place together later if we want to.”

Her radiant smile was contagious, and for the first time in

months, I found myself excited about what the future would hold.

The car pulled up at the Bank of Mithras a few moments later,

where Val gave me the access code for the side entrance used by

the vampires and few shifters who needed to access the bank at

night.

“Kyle will probably be here,” she said as we went down to

the nocturnal lobby. “He works here as one of my assistants. Is that

okay?”

“I’ll manage.” I didn’t relish seeing Kyle. The last time we’d

been in the same place, I had lost control of my panther. But at least

Val hadn’t slept with him.

When we entered the bustling lobby, all eyes turned to Val,

who slipped her arm around my waist. I struggled with self-

consciousness, but Val seemed relaxed despite being the object of

so many curious stares. Then again, she had grown up under this

kind of scrutiny.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said, raising her voice so the

entire room could hear her. “Employees and guests alike. I want

to be certain that you’ve all been introduced to my partner, Alexa

Newland. Please ensure that she is afforded the same courtesy and

respect you show to me.”

As we walked across the floor, I finally understood what

Homecoming queens felt like. Touched as I was by Valentine’s

need to make a grand gesture, I was ready to be out of the spotlight.

“What prompted the speech?” I whispered.

“Something I remembered from my teenage years about how

to spread news quickly: tell just enough of the right people, and

everyone will know within hours.” She rested her hand at the small

of my back. “And I need everyone to know I’m yours again.”

• 208 •

nightrise

I leaned into her as we walked, momentarily overcome by the

passion behind her words. Yours again. In the darkest times, I had

given up all hope of ever wresting her back over what had seemed an

impassable divide, and now she was making public proclamations

about belonging to me. I could look into the future without feeling

fear or loneliness. Valentine was my eternity, and we could embark

on our shared life together knowing we’d been made all the stronger

by the crucible we’d had to endure.

When Kyle met us at the entrance to Val’s office and began

talking a mile a minute, my nerves were soothed by his obvious

anxiety.

“Kyle,” Val said, cutting off his babbling. “There are some

additional details I want you to know. Alexa found a way to reverse

my transition to full vampire. And Sebastian and I are getting a

divorce, at my instigation.”

Kyle blinked, too shocked to speak, and Val clapped him on

the shoulder. “Spread the word for me, will you? Things are going

to work a little differently around here now. I’ll call a staff meeting

for the beginning of next week.”

She turned and led me past Kyle’s desk, through a waiting area,

and into her office. When the door closed behind us, she immediately

shrugged out of her suit jacket. “I’m glad that’s over with.”

Too busy taking in the décor of Val’s office, I didn’t reply. She

had furnished the room with pieces that combined an old-world

consciousness with modern materials. Her desk was a steampunk

masterpiece: shaped like a bent airplane wing, its distressed

aluminum surface gleamed under the lamplight. The conference

table was made of salvaged wood that fit together without any

screw or bolt, and the chairs around it were upholstered in supple,

chocolate-colored leather.

“What do you think?” she asked as she sat in the chair behind

her desk.

“Comfortable yet distinguished. I like it very much. It suits you.”

She grinned, a hungry glint in her eyes, and gestured for me to

come closer. I was just about to ask whether she had locked the door,

when her phone rang. With a sigh, she lifted the receiver.

• 209 •

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“Oh? Yes, I did see them. Well, ah, send him in then.”

After replacing the phone, she got up and joined me near the

table. “I’m about to be paid a visit by a very angry Pritchard,” she

said. “Will you stay?”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go?”

“Please don’t,” she answered quickly. “This won’t take long. I

promise.”

A moment later, Pritchard stormed in. He had dressed well for

this meeting in a black suit and striped tie, but the polished effect

was spoiled by the weight he’d put on since last I’d seen him.

“Pritchard,” Val greeted him before he could open his mouth.

“You remember Alexa, I’m sure. Please have a seat. Would you like

a scotch?”

“I sure as fuck will have some of your fucking scotch,” he

growled. “It’s the least you can do.”

“I understand that you’re angry,” Val said as she poured the

rich liquid into a snifter.

“Angry?” He shook his head. “You made me believe you were

going to help me, and then you went behind my back and poisoned

my investors against me!”

He took a long drink from the glass Val handed him. She sat next

to me and leaned back in her chair, seeming unfazed by Pritchard’s

rant. As I took in the strong, elegant lines of her stretched legs, I felt

my desire reawaken. Val may have formerly eschewed this life, but

it was already clear to me that she had the instincts for it.

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I did.”

Clearly, Pritchard hadn’t expected her to own up to her actions,

and he sat gaping like a fish for several seconds. “So what are you

going to do about it?” he asked belligerently.

Val rested her hands on the table, and I was momentarily

distracted by the memory of exactly what her talented fingers could

do. “Here’s what I propose,” she said. “Given that I now have your

investors’ confidence, I’ll take over management of the fund. But I

want you to be BlueFin’s president.”

He scowled. “What will my responsibilities be?”

• 210 •

nightrise

“You’ll be the face of the fund. You’ll take all of the press calls

and you’ll manage the relationships with BlueFin’s investors.”

He shot the rest of the glass back in one gulp, and my throat

burned in empathy. “So basically, I’m your monkey with no real

power.”

Val’s eyes glittered, and for a moment, I thought she might rise

to his baiting. Instead, she folded her hands on the tabletop. “Yes.

But you’ll be a very, very well paid monkey.”

Pritchard’s lip curled, but he held his temper in check. “Fine.

What’s the next step?”

Val leaned back in her chair, and I could tell she was pleased.

“My assistant will draw up the paperwork. It’ll be finalized by next

week.”

He stood and reluctantly held out his hand. “I’ll wait for your

call, then.”

Once Val had ushered him out, she returned to find me lounging

in her desk chair. “You make a very sexy banker,” I told her as I

propped my feet up onto her desk. I was gratified to see her eyes

darken.

“Do I?” She stalked toward me, but stopped when I held out

one hand.

“Don’t come any closer. And yes, you do. Who would have

thought?”

Her smile was rueful. “I fit in well with the rest of my family

when I’m behaving like a soulless vampire.”

“Come here,” I said, torn by the distress in her voice. When

she was close enough, I slid one hand beneath her oxford shirt and

rubbed the taut muscles of her abdomen. “I saw what you just did

for Pritchard. You can be good at this without being ruthless.”

Val dropped to one knee and leaned in for a kiss. “Only when

you’re with me, baby. Only then.”

The kiss deepened quickly, and we might have finally made

love in her office if her phone hadn’t rung again. When she answered,

I could hear the breathlessness in her voice, and I felt smug until

alarm registered on her face. At that moment, my cell buzzed and I

fished it out of my pocket to the sight of Solana’s new number.

• 211 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

“Solana,” I said, retreating to the other side of the room. With

a twinge of shame, I found myself hoping to hear details about her

rendezvous with Helen. “How are you?”

“I need your help,” Solana said, sounding disturbingly close to

tears. “Helen just received a message from Brenner. She is planning

to sacrifice herself to save the Sunrunner delegation, and I can’t talk

her out of it. Will you come to the Headquarters building as soon as

you can?”

I owed Solana more than my own life; I owed her Val’s. “Of

course. I’ll be there right away.” Val set down her phone then, and I

could tell from her shell-shocked expression that she had just heard

the same news. A sense of dread tightened my throat. “We both will.

Sit tight, okay? Don’t let her do anything drastic.”

“Hurry,” was all Solana said before disconnecting the call.

“That was Devon Foster,” Val said as I returned to her side. She

looked dazed—as though she’d just weathered a nasty blow to the

head. “Helen is going to walk into a death trap set by Brenner, and

Foster wants me to talk her out of it. She thinks Helen might listen

to me, since I’m a member of the Order.”

“My call was from Solana. Same message.” I ran my fingers

through Val’s hair, needing the connection. “Not that Helen would

listen to me in a million years, but Solana wants reinforcements.”

Val caught my free hand and pressed it to her lips. “I was hoping

we’d have more time. This is going to get very ugly, very fast.”

She was right. This kind of power play could only end badly.

Brenner had sidelined Malcolm, perhaps permanently. If he managed

to remove Helen from the picture, he would create a power vacuum

at the highest level of the Consortium. But despite the grim outlook,

I felt hopeful. Val and I had already proven that we could survive

anything as long as we were together. This would be no different.

“Oh, my love.” I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “We’ll get

through this, I promise. And then we’ll have plenty of time just for

us. I’m not accepting anything less than forever with you.”

• 212 •

nightrise

Chapter tweNty-ONe

The new receptionist was clearly frightened, but she

managed to hold herself together long enough to tell us

that Helen was taking meetings in her office. We found ourselves

alone in the elevator, and I went into Val’s arms willingly.

“Helen and I have had our differences,” she said as she stroked

my hair. “Big ones. But I don’t want her to die, and definitely not

like this.”

I slipped my hand beneath her shirt and lightly massaged the

tight muscles of her lower back. I could feel her getting riled up, and

I wanted to have all the information before we did anything rash.

“Let’s just wait and hear what she has to say before we make any

decisions.”

Devon Foster was standing guard outside Helen’s office,

looking sick with anger. When she saw us approaching, relief

momentarily eclipsed the rage clearly written on her face. Once, her

attention would have been riveted to me, but now she was staring

hard at Val.

“I’ve been hearing insane rumors about you.”

“For once, they might actually be true.” Val looked past Foster

to the door. “We can talk about that later. Can I see her now?”

“She’s in with Constantine. She won’t be long. No one has

lasted past ten minutes.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

• 213 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

“She’s made up her mind to meet Brenner’s demands and won’t

hear any criticism.”

Val frowned. “What are his demands, exactly?”

“You haven’t seen it yet?” Foster pulled out her phone. “He

released this message two hours ago using the same distribution

channels as when he delivered that proclamation about the virus last

summer. Leon and I have been over it twenty times already, trying

to figure out what we can do.”

She passed the phone to Val, who angled it so we could both see

the screen. The video revealed a male figure, his face cast in shadow,

seated behind a desk set in an alcove. Behind him, bay windows

with a view of the surrounding nighttime cityscape stretched from

the floor to the ceiling. When the figure switched on the desk lamp,

my panther tried to lash out. She wanted Balthasar Brenner’s heart

between her teeth.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Val murmured. When she began to rub my

back, I realized I was trembling.

As I pulled deep, even breaths into my lungs, Brenner smiled

into the camera. He wore a simple blue oxford shirt and his dark

hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, just as I remembered. His

smile reminded me of Sebastian’s—charming and charismatic. He

looked normal, and that was the most frightening part of all.

“Good evening, Helen. I’d like to extend an invitation to

you to join me here, at my suite in the Four Seasons, at midnight

tomorrow.” He unclasped his hands and rested his muscular arms

on the desk. “There is, you see, an experiment I’ve always wished

to try. I’m deathly curious about how much time it takes for one of

you Sunrunner vampires to immolate.”

Foster looked murderous, and Val was grinding her teeth. I

leaned against her, needing to reassure her just as she had done for

me a moment ago.

“If you come alone and unarmed as my test subject in this

matter, the Sunrunners who are currently my guests will be released.

However, if you do not abide by my precise terms, I’m afraid I will

have to use all of the delegation members in my research.” He

• 214 •

nightrise

smiled again. “I very much look forward to hearing from you by

daybreak regarding your intentions.”

When the video went dark, Val shoved the phone back at Foster.

“Damn it!”

Foster was livid. “That rat bastard shot this video in the Ty

Warner Penthouse of the Four Seasons—the most expensive hotel

room in the city.”

“And he did his filming in front of the window with eastern

exposure,” I added.

Foster gripped the door jamb so hard I thought it might crack.

“Leon and I came up with some thoughts about how to extract the

delegation right away, but Helen wouldn’t hear of it. She insists that

meeting Brenner’s demands is the only way.”

“She can’t risk the delegates,” Val countered. “Bai is the second-

in-command of the most powerful vampire in Asia and possibly the

world. The rest of the group is comprised of more of Tian’s trusted

lieutenants. Letting them die at Brenner’s hands would mean the

end of Sunrunner support for the Consortium.”

“But wouldn’t the Consortium also suffer a deathblow if Helen

were to die?” Foster asked. “Especially since Malcolm is still…

recovering?”

Val shook her head. “The infrastructure of the Consortium will

still exist if Helen were to die. She has no clear successor, but one

could be put in her place.”

Foster opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment the door

opened and Constantine emerged, his panther close to the surface.

When he saw Valentine and me standing together, surprise eclipsed

his internal struggle.

“You’ve returned.” He glanced from Val to me, his expression

wary. “With success, I take it?”

I stepped forward to embrace him. “With great success. Can

we talk soon?”

He nodded. “Come find me in the War Room.”

As we watched him walk way, Val looked troubled. “I need to

apologize to him.”

“You don’t. He’s always understood the situation.”

• 215 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

“Even so.” She took my hand and rubbed her thumb in soothing

circles over my skin. “I hurt you, and he feels protective of you. He

should have my apology.”

Foster, who had ducked inside Helen’s office, returned to her

post. “She’s ready for you. Both of you,” she amended when I hung

back. That was strange. Helen had never particularly liked me, and

I assumed she would have private matters to discuss with Val about

the Order of Mithras.

Helen’s secretary barely even acknowledged us. She was

simultaneously talking on the phone and typing furiously. When Val

opened the door, I was even more surprised to see Solana seated

next to Helen at the small conference table. Sorrow suffused her

face, making her even lovelier.

“Solana tells me you have done the impossible,” Helen said to

me as Val and I sat in the remaining chairs.

“Thanks entirely to her generosity.”

Pride flickered in the brief curve to her lips, coupled with some

other, softer emotion. But then it was gone, and she turned her

attention to Valentine. “How do you feel?”

Val reached for my hand. “Wonderful. As though the past

several months never happened.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Although, of course, they did.”

“I’m not about to neglect my responsibilities, if that’s what

concerns you,” Val said firmly. I found myself impressed. I’d

never heard her use such an assertive tone with Helen before. “But

from now on, I’ll attend to them in ways that won’t jeopardize my

relationship with Alexa.”

Helen leaned back, seemingly mollified. She stroked Solana’s

arm, and I wondered again how they had spent their brief time

together. “I presume you’ve heard Balthasar’s ultimatum.”

Val nodded. “Is there no other way?”

“Leon, Devon, and I discussed my options. Accepting

Balthasar’s terms is the only course of action for which the risk

level is acceptable.” She glanced at Solana, then me. “If you would

be so kind as to step out, there are a few matters I must discuss with

Valentine in private.”

• 216 •

nightrise

“I’ll be waiting,” I told Val, leaning in for a quick kiss before

Solana and I returned to the corridor.

Once we were outside, I embraced her. Despite Foster’s

inquisitive gaze, Solana sagged against me, clearly distraught.

“I don’t know what to do, what to think,” she said, her voice

snarled by unshed tears. “We had only hours together, before that

monster sent out his despicable threat. It flicked some sort of switch

in her, and nothing I could say made any difference.”

I grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “So you think

she’s wrong? That there are options she’s choosing not to explore?”

Solana’s eyes were wild with grief. “I think she believes that

giving up her life is her only proactive option against him. She is

burdened by the weight of constantly being on the defensive, and

she hasn’t been able to adequately protect her constituents. Until

now.”

“She probably thinks we’d be better off with someone else.” I

released Solana and began to pace, my panther urging motion in the

face of frustration.

“You’re right,” Foster said into the silence. “Me.”

“You?” Solana echoed in confusion.

“An hour ago, she told me that I’ll be named her successor in

the Order of Mithras.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Doesn’t her successor also have to be

a Sunrunner?”

“Yes, I am. Helen was the one who turned me.”

I flashed back almost a year ago to the sight of Foster lying

motionless on the floor of the Missionary’s warehouse. We’d

surprised him as he fed, and I knew I would always remember the

sound of Foster’s blood trickling from his chin onto the floor.

“The Missionary fed from you. I saw it.”

“So I’ve been told.” She shrugged, no longer fazed by such

matters. “But Helen was the one who ultimately turned me.”

I began pacing again in an effort to digest this new information.

It seemed folly for Helen to appoint Foster, who had been a vampire

only a year, to a post of such importance. If the rest of Val’s clan

hadn’t been dead, she would never have been made Missionary so

• 217 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

soon after being turned. Had Helen been grooming Foster for this

purpose all along?

Solana slumped to the floor, her back to the wall. “Then she

truly has given up all hope. No wonder she can’t be persuaded to

take any other course of action.”

“Wait,” I said, suddenly inspired. “What if we let her do what

she wants, but we do what we want?”

When they both stared at me blankly, I forced myself to

stand still. “We let her walk into the hotel. But we have a plan—or

several—to get her and the delegation out safely.”

Foster’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to countermand her

orders.”

For the first time since Solana’s frantic call, I smiled. “Of

course I do.”

The door opened, then, and Valentine emerged. She looked

weary, as though the weight of the world had been placed on her

shoulders. With all three of us looking at her expectantly, she

suddenly bared her teeth.

“I’ll be damned if I just sit idly by while she lets Brenner get

the upper hand.”

Foster barked out a laugh. Solana smiled tremulously. Val

looked very confused until I threaded my arms around her neck and

leaned in for a kiss.

“Great minds think alike, love.”

“I want to help,” Solana began, “but I don’t want to leave her

alone.”

“Go. We’ll fill you in later.” I looked to Foster. “Who else?”

“Leon Summers. Constantine.”

Val was nodding and her eyes were bright again. She looked

at her watch and her jaw tightened. “We have just over twenty-four

hours. We’re going to have to move fast.”

“We can assemble in the War Room,” said Foster. “Once I

arrange for additional security up here, I’ll join you.”

She disappeared back into the antechamber, leaving Val and

me alone. Val held me tightly, sliding her hands along my ribs as she

stared into my eyes.

• 218 •

nightrise

“We might not be able to pull this off,” she said.

“I know.”

“We might start an all-out war.”

I thought about that for a few seconds. “Also true.”

“I love you.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my right

ear. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re mine. I’m always going to save you.” I thought back to

the summer, when she had discovered the cure for the deadly virus

that Brenner had unleashed during his first power play against the

Consortium. “Just like you’re always going to save me.”

She smiled at me, a bright, uncensored, fully human smile. The

smile that was mine and only mine. The smile only I would ever

see. And then she pulled back, but only far enough to take my hand.

“Let’s go be superheroes, baby.”

“Yes,” I said as we walked toward the elevator. “Let’s.”

• 219 •

• 220 •

nightrise

epilOgue

valentine

The rifle grip had long since warmed from the heat of my

palm. My skin was normally cool to the touch, but just

before we’d parted ways two hours ago, Alexa had pulled me close

and brushed the hair back from her neck. The gesture had been a

clear invitation. If Foster and Constantine hadn’t been watching, I

would have pushed my hand down the front of her tight black jeans

and taken her where we stood. Instead, I had swirled my tongue

against her skin as I claimed her with my teeth. Desire swept over

me at the remembered sensation of her fingertips massaging my

scalp while I drank. Arousal pulsed in time with the beat of her

blood in my veins, but I refused to allow my breathing to accelerate.

Helen’s fate might depend on the steadiness of my hands.

The carpeting beneath me was comfortable in its lushness, but

I wished for hardwood. This luxurious corner office in the Seagram

building had only a small angle of correspondence with the eastern

window of the Ty Warner suite, but it had been the best of our viable

choices. My grip on the sniper rifle was firm and my body immobile,

but the slight give to the carpet fibers had the potential to sidetrack

my shot.

I peered through the scope, listening intently for any word from

the extraction team. They had gone dark half an hour ago, and I told

• 221 •

Nell Stark aNd triNity tam

myself that their silence was a good sign. At the first hint of trouble,

they would reopen communications, and that would be my signal. I

was the insurance. Either I’d manage to create enough chaos to help

them free Helen, or I’d have to perform a mercy killing as the sun

rose.

The suite’s lights were on, and I could see her clearly through

the scope. She sat regally, as though she hadn’t been bound to a chair

and forced to stare at the gradually brightening sky. Her expression

was serene. Peaceful. She had given up.

Anger washed over me and I focused on maintaining even

breaths. Helen wanted to die a martyr, a choice I would have

respected only if it had been her last possible recourse. In refusing

to fight, what did she hope to gain? Especially now that Solana was

back in the picture. They looked at each other as though they could

fall in love all over again, and yet Helen had insisted on walking

directly into the jaws of death. I had been that stupid once, and

Alexa had talked me down from the ledge. Since Helen wouldn’t

listen to reason, we were poised to forcibly drag her off her own

metaphorical cliff.

A flicker of motion drew my attention back to the tableau

visible through my scope, and not for the first time, I wished I could

hear what was going on inside the room. I’d been in position for

almost two hours, but Balthasar Brenner had yet to cross into my

field of vision. If he did, I would take the shot without hesitation,

but I doubted he would make that kind of mistake. He hadn’t lived

almost five centuries by being reckless about his personal safety.

My breath caught as a familiar figure moved into the space

between Helen and the window. Sebastian.

Mind racing, I struggled to keep my body under control. Why

on earth would Sebastian show up at his father’s suite now? He

stopped with his back to the gray sky and crossed his arms over

his chest. His lips moved, but I couldn’t read the words. Was he in

collusion with his father after all? Or had he come to try to bargain

for Helen’s life?

And then my earbud crackled to life in a cacophony of snarls

and the staccato of gunfire.

• 222 •

nightrise

“Val, do you read?” Foster sounded breathless.

“Yes. What the hell’s going on?”

“Game’s up. We’re cornered.”

A low, animal groan followed on the heels of her words,

galvanizing my heart into overdrive. Was that Alexa? Had she been

wounded? A fresh salvo of gunfire erupted even closer to Foster, and

I fought the impulse to cover my ears. Foster was cursing colorfully,

and I could hear the slap of her boots against the floor as she ran—

whether toward or away from the spray of bullets, it was impossible

to say.

“We’re out of time,” she rasped. “Take your shot, Val!”

The connection snapped, cutting off an eerie canine howl and

plunging me back into silence. My heart thudded painfully against

my ribs as the image of Alexa, wounded or worse, haunted my

mind’s eye.

No. No distractions. I had no margin for error. She was alive.

I had to believe it. The sooner I fulfilled my mission, the sooner I

would be able to join her. And if Brenner’s mangy curs had so much

as laid a claw on her, I would tear them apart beyond any hope of

regeneration.

I took in a deep breath and expelled it. Another. Then another,

and another, until my body was steady and my mind was empty and

all I could see was Sebastian and Helen. Helen’s expression had not

changed, but Sebastian’s neck was flushed and his jawline sharp as

a knife. He was furious.

In that moment, the sun broke free of the horizon. Beams of

light streamed into the suite and scattered as they hit the crystal

chandelier. Tiny rainbows blossomed on the wall and floor,

scintillating like ethereal flowers.

I did not wince. I did not blink. No apology rose to my lips, nor

tears to my eyes. Beyond thought or emotion, I pulled the trigger.

The End

• 223 •

About the Authors

Nell Stark is an Assistant Professor of English and the Director

of the Writing Center at a college in the SUNY system. Trinity

Tam is a marketing executive in the music industry and an award-

winning writer/producer of film and television. They live, write, and

parent a rambunctious toddler just a stone’s throw from the historic

Stonewall Inn in New York City. For more information about the

everafter series, visit www.everafterseries.com.

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Table of Contents

Chapter ONe

Chapter twO

Chapter three

Chapter FOur

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter SeveN

Chapter eight

Chapter NiNe

Chapter teN

Chapter eleveN

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteeN

Chapter FOurteeN

Chapter FiFteeN

Chapter SixteeN

Chapter SeveNteeN

Chapter eighteeN

Chapter NiNeteeN

Chapter tweNty

Chapter tweNty-ONe