Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe

28

HARLOW

My chest constricts as Van passes out, his breathing growing ever shallower as I watch. He’s dying and he shouldn’t be. He should be healing even now, but blood continues to seep past my fingers as I hold pressure on the deep abdominal wound, his life slipping away right in front of me. His aura is fading too, despite my stranglehold on it with mine. I feel helpless and angry that I’m already losing him after only finding him mere days ago. It isn’t fair or right.

I yank my eyes from Van to glare up at Móira. “What did you do to him?” I ask in a hard, demanding voice. “Why isn’t he healing?”

“I’ve done nothing to him,” she replies in a cool, emotionless voice. “But perhaps betraying our original bargain did far more damage to him than he expected.” She lets out an over-dramatic sigh. “Such a pity. I was certain he’d at least make it a hundred years before he outgrew his usefulness.” Her shoulders lift in a shrug. “Ah, well, I suppose I’ll find a replacement soon enough. I always do.”

“He’s a person, you fucking bitch,” I snarl at her, rage igniting inside me at her casual and callous words. “Not a plaything for your amusement.”

Móira’s eyes flick toward Van. “Don’t you mean, he was a person?” she asks with a smirk.

I jerk my eyes to my mate just as his chest goes still, one final breath leaving his lungs as his aura fades away. I reach for it, but it slips from my grasp, leaving a gaping black hole of loss and despair behind. Agony crushes down on me in the next instant, followed by a blast of fury that annihilates every thought in my head but one. Revenge. I snarl and snatch up my knife from Van’s now slack fingers, then surge to my feet. I lunge at the fae woman, but my weapon finds empty air where Móira should have been, as an infuriating peel of laughter erupts behind me. I whirl toward the sound to find Móira several feet away, her toothy grin in stark contrast to the shadowy darkness swirling around her body. I attack her again with the same results, my knife uselessly slashing through shadows as she darts out of my reach. Her knife, on the other hand, leaves a trail of burning pain across my upper left arm as the sharp blade cuts right through the leather of my jacket. She laughs again as I turn to face her once more, a bit of warm blood dripping down to my elbow beneath my sleeve before the shallow wound can heal.

“Didn’t you know?” she asks, grinning wider. “There’s a reason they call me the Lady of Darkness and Shadows.”

I gape at her at this recent development. She was going easy on Van before she killed him, toying with him just like she did for his entire life. I’m very much aware that I probably won’t win this fight against her any more than Van did. Her magic may not work directly on me, but my immunity doesn’t extend to the magic she uses indirectly. Yeah, I’m screwed, but I’ll gladly go down swinging for a chance to avenge Van’s death and get a little payback for every fucked up thing she ever did to him. I’m not gonna go down easy. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and I’ll skewer her sorry ass before she kills me first.

“Gee,” I say with a smirk. “And here I thought you were called the Lady of Kiss my Ass and Fuck You.”

She scowls. “Why you impertinent little-”

I don’t give her time to elaborate on that and attack her again. I’m a little shocked when I actually tag her. She hisses at the contact of the steel blade on her arm as the shadows whirl away from me yet again. I grin. Maybe I do stand a chance here. Unfortunately, that notion is nixed when she retaliates and leaves behind several more bloody slashes in her wake to my right arm and upper back. If she keeps this up, I fear my injuries will outpace my ability to heal them.

She grins in satisfaction again. And it just pisses me off. If I’m going to lose, then what’s the point of being careful or holding back. I scream out my rage and anguish, and go after the fae woman with everything I am. It works… at first. I go after Móira again and again, and give her a few superficial cuts, but she retaliates twofold. Each wound she gives me is longer and deeper than the last, until I’m a literal bloody mess. Most are minor, but the few to my back and abdomen are deep and cause most of my blood loss. By the time she slices open my left thigh so deep that I fear she may have hit my femoral artery, I’m almost spent from the fight and my body’s efforts to heal all of its wounds. I decide it’s do or die time. I gather what strength I have left and charge at her with a snarl, ready to end this no matter the outcome.

It’s over far faster than I expected. Within seconds, Móira has me disarmed, my knife flying from my hand, and her long, wicked blade plunges into the left side of my chest with a loud thunk. She yanks it back out again with an unnecessary flourish, and the pain hits me so hard that my legs collapse beneath me. More pain jolts through me as I land on my back on the ground, and I gasp only to have it cause even more agony.

Have you ever heard of a sucking chest wound? It’s when something (like a knife) penetrates the chest, breaking the chest cavity’s seal, and your lung collapses because it can’t properly inflate. Not only does it suck (pun intended), but it hurts like a bitch and makes breathing almost impossible, the wound hissing and bubbling as I try to breathe in and out. I’ve had a few before and I know they don’t heal as fast for me as other injuries, and since my body is already working so hard to fix my other wounds, it will take even longer. And it’s time I don’t have as Móira paces closer, the surrounding shadows dissipating as she waves the tip of her blade in my face. I imagine she’ll be taking my head or shoving her knife into my heart here in a moment, and I’m sure as shit not gonna recover from that. Well, at least I went out fighting, and maybe I’ll find Van again on the other side, wherever the hell that is. The thought comforts me, and I grin past the pain.

Móira stares down at me with furrowed brows. “Are you that eager to die?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I wheeze out, then gasp in another hard breath. “I’m looking forward to haunting your sorry ass for the rest of fucking eternity.” I cough and white fiery agony takes what little breath I have away for a moment. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

Móira throws her head back and laughs, the dulcet sound unnerving coming from a being I know is so fucking awful. I can’t even stand looking at her and avert my gaze from her obvious elation. I look toward Van’s still form, who’s out of Móira’s line of sight behind her, only to find him not so still. His arms and legs are twitching, almost like a seizure. Elation floods my body, easing away some of the pain. He’s not dead yet, and maybe we can get out of this alive. I look back at Móira, not wanting her to notice what’s happening behind her, and fight the urge to reach out to Van’s aura with mine for fear she’ll somehow sense it.

She shakes her head. “You are quite the handful, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I say between wheezing breaths, then hazard another peek at Van and have to stifle a gasp.

He’s sitting up now, but that’s not what shocks me. It’s the fact that I can see black fur sprouting on his face and hands. His eyes are glowing a more brilliant silver than I’ve ever seen them do before, too. His face is elongating into a muzzle, and sharp claws are erupting from his fingertips to rip and tear at his own clothes. Holy fuck, he’s shifting. The others, still frozen in place behind Van by the fae’s air magic, gape at him in utter astonishment that I totally get. I guess his dormant werewolf half isn’t so dormant after all. Now I really can’t have Móira’s attention wander anywhere near Van. I need to keep her occupied long enough for Van to finish shifting.

Móira lets out a loud beleaguered sigh. “Well, this has been a fun little diversion,” she says, twirling the blade above me with a bored expression. “But I suppose I’ve toyed with you long enough.”

“Don’t you want to know where the ring is?” I ask to stall her, trying my best to ignore the excruciating pain wracking my poor slashed up body.

“I already know,” she answers, with a glint in her stormy gray eyes. “I can sense its magic somewhere on you.” She shrugs. “I’ll simply retrieve it after I kill you, so you might as well resign yourself to your fate. It will be quicker and a lot less painful for you, child.”

What a condescending bitch.

I flick another glance toward Van. He’s on his hands and knees now, with most of his clothes torn away to expose the thick jet black fur covering most of his body. His back is arching up painfully toward the night sky as sharp fangs appear in his huge gaping maw of a mouth. His eyes are locked on his mother with terrifying and deadly intent as his body continues to shift, like he can’t wait to tear her apart limb from limb. Hell yeah. I’m all for that. He just needs a little more time, and I know just the thing that will distraction her a bit longer.

I grimace in pain to mask the urge to grin like a madwoman as I meet Móira’s gaze again, huddling in on myself to appear cowed. “Please,” I say in a pitiful voice. “I don’t want to die. I’ll… I’ll do anything you want. J… just let me live.”

One of Moira’s perfectly sculpted brows arches, her eyes alight with intrigued interest. “Anything?” she asks with a slow, delighted smile.

I nod vigorously, playing up my part in this charade.

“Would you care to bargain for your life?” she asks, almost purring in her eagerness.

Gotcha, bitch. Hook, line, and sinker.

I hold back a grin of triumph and stare up at her with feigned hope and a hint of skepticism to sell it. If I’m too eager, she might get suspicious. “What would I have to do?” I ask, then wheeze and cough with a wince, wishing my damn lung would heal a little faster here.

“Give me the ring and take Evandro’s place,” she answers with glee. “I’ll even let you have his assets, including Valesco Financial. You’ll want for nothing. All I ask is that you be at my beck and call for whatever occasional task I need done, and I’ll spare your life.”

I fight down a scowl. I bet those are similar words to the ones she used to ensnare her own son into a lifetime of enslavement to her, and her fucked up whims. I fucking hate her so much. I glance away to appear as if I’m considering her offer and check on Van again. He’s standing on four legs now and completely uninjured with his clothing in tatters on the surrounding ground. His wolf is magnificent, taller and more muscular than Mercer’s black wolf and twice as scary with his menacing silver eyes and long sharp white fangs. His eyes meet mine, and I see my Van in them. Relief sweeps over me. Part of me feared he might have lost himself when he shifted, but he’s right there staring back at me. His attention returns to Móira, his lips curling up in a silent snarl, and stalks toward her on silent paws.

I look at Móira again, her expression expectant and so damn arrogant that I want to pummel it off of her face. But I’ll happily settle for Van ripping her throat out instead.

I grin up at her, stifling a cough. “You know what?” I ask in a nonchalant tone as I watch Van move closer to her in my peripheral vision. “As tempting as your bargain sounds, I have a much better one in mind.”

Móira frowns in what looks like equal parts confusion and irritation. “Excuse me?” she asks, her tone incredulous.

“You heard me, bitch,” I say in an impudent tone that earns me a glare.

She makes an impatient noise as she narrows her eyes at me. “And what bargain would you propose?” she asks with a deepening scowl.

“One where the rest of us walk away from here with our lives,” I say with a smirk as Van crouches low, a mere yard from Móira. “And you die,” I snarl at her as Van leaps toward her unprotected back.

The huge black wolf slams into the fae woman, sending her sprawling toward the ground. But she recovers far quicker than I expect and rolls gracefully with the fall, coming back up onto her feet and slashing out at Van with the titanium knife still gripped in her hand. Van leaps out of the way mere inches from being tagged. She stares at him with wide incredulous eyes as he circles around her. She hazards a quick glance toward the others and then at the spot where Van was lying dead just a few moments ago. Her brows rise even higher as she looks at Van again, turning to follow his movements.

“Why Evandro, aren’t you full of surprises today,” she says with a hint of a smile that sets my nerves on edge. “I didn’t think you had it in you to embrace your inner wolf. Good for you. But do you honestly think a change of form will give you victory this day? Do you have any idea how many werewolves have died on my blade before you or your father even came into existence? I could have easily killed him myself if I hadn’t needed to win you over. Nothing has changed. You’re still the same weak and pathetic sycophant you’ve always been, and you’re going to die.”

Van snarls at her in reply, his hackles up, making him appear bigger and even more menacing. He charges at her and she whirls out of his path in a cloud of billowing shadows and a peal of laughter. And Van is left with a long gaping wound to his shoulder that gives my newfound hope one hell of a hit. Van goes after her again, his speed incredible, but still the fae injures him on the opposite shoulder. Van attacks in earnest after that, his movements losing some of their speed and agility with each pass and subsequent injury that follows. Shifting for the first time, and healing his grievous wounds from the earlier fight with his mother, must have used a lot of his energy. If this keeps up, Van will die for real this time, and I can’t abide witnessing it again. I need to do something to help him.

I attempt to get up, the pain so intense that I fear I might pass out, but only make it to my hands and knees before I have to stop and catch my breath. My lungs are screaming at me as blood trickles from my mouth onto the ground between my hands. I reach down to find that the wound on my thigh is only oozing blood now as it knits itself closed, but it’s nowhere near healed enough that moving around won’t rip it open all over again. I’m no use to Van yet, but I’m running out of time. A yelp draws my attention back to the fight, and Van is limping away from Móira, one of his forelegs pouring blood. Fuck. At the rate he’s going, he’ll be long dead before I can do anything. I look at the others, but they’re still immobile, so there’ll be no help from them. I glance around at the parked cars and the trees all around us as my heart sinks even further. Goddamn it, we’re screwed again.

Exhausted, I lower myself to the ground and roll over with a wince to stare up unseeing at the night sky above. Why can’t I ever win? My entire life has been one fucked up mess after another and now that I get this close to finding genuine happiness, it gets ripped away as quickly as I gained it. Despair hits me hard. I don’t want to give up, but what else can I do? There isn’t any other way to win this battle that I can figure out. And then the solution hits me like a ton of bricks. The solution that’s been in my pocket this entire time. The Morrígan’s ring. What better way to turn the tide in my favor than to use the ring that belonged to a goddess who could give its wearer victory in battle over their enemies.

I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket and grab the ring, its metal surface rough to the touch and warm from being close to my body. Its magic jolts up my arm and through my body, inciting a giddy and violent urge to attack and kill anything in my way. It terrifies me, just like it did earlier, and I don’t want to put the ring on, to find out what it will do to me, but I’m more afraid of losing Van. So I slip the ring onto the middle finger of my left hand before I can second guess myself and tense in anticipation.

The ring’s magic ignites in a conflagration of adrenaline that sings through my veins and wipes all my pain away. A burst of physical energy follows in its wake, filling me with a vigor that didn’t exist a moment ago, and I rise to my feet before I can even register the thought to carry out the action. I can feel every wound on my body quickly and painlessly knitting back together until I’m whole again in seconds. Then I look toward Van and Móira to find her standing over his now prone and bloodied wolf form, paused in the act of raising her knife to end his life. Her eyes are locked on me in stunned surprise. She must have felt the rings magic awaken inside me and the look of fear on her face is unmistakable. I’m hit by a deluge of raw savagery at the sight of her fear. The urge to make her pay for what she’s done to Van and to me is too overwhelming to resist.

I scream out my rage and bloodlust as I surge forward, snatching up my discarded knife off the ground as I charge straight for the fae woman. She backpedals at my approach, raising her knife to defend herself as I reach her. She blocks my first slash and then my second, but the third lands home and fillets a long line down her cheek. I grin at her shocked expression and the hiss of pain she lets out from the injury as much as from the cold iron of my blade touching her flesh.

I continue attacking her, my speed astounding even me as I slash and stab at her again and again, drawing blood more times than not. Her shadow magic hides nothing from me now. It’s as if I can sense her movements before she even enacts them, regardless of how she tries to hide them from my vision. Her blade never touches me as I whirl and twist out of its way with a lithe and skillful grace I’ve never had before. The fear in her eyes morphs into terror as she comprehends just how much trouble she’s in fighting against me and the ring’s powerful effect on my already formidable skill with a knife. She’s fucked, and she knows it now. A maniacal laugh bubbles up out of me at that realization and the panicked expression on her face.

I pour even more effort into my next flurry of attacks, still laughing like a deranged lunatic as I draw blood with every stroke of my blade, again and again and again. Within seconds, I disarm Móira with practiced ease, sending her knife flying as I close in for the kill. She backs away with her hands up in a gesture of surrender as she bleeds from multiple wounds, and I grin in anticipation. I’m done playing with my kill now. It’s time to end this once and for all. I want to bathe in her blood, to bask in the power I have over the life and death of such an ancient and powerful dark fae. I want to snuff out everything that makes her what she is and revel in my victory as her life fades from her eyes and her body.

“Please,” she says, her voice tight and panicked. “There must be some bargain we can make so no one dies needlessly.”

I twirl my knife in my hand. “It’s too late for that,” I say. “I can’t risk you hurting Van or anyone else ever again.” I grin at her as I tremble with bloodthirsty eagerness. “You have to die.”

I leap at her, knocking her over, and follow her down to the ground as I plunge my knife into her chest. We land with a hard jolt, with me straddling her body. I yank the knife out of her and begin driving it into her torso over and over again as she uselessly flails her hands to stop me. Blood flies everywhere covering my hands, arms, and face, it’s coppery taste in my mouth as I roar out my bloodlust with each thrust of my blade in and out of her body. I can’t stop, too lost to the ring’s violence to even think clearly, let alone recognize that Móira has gone still beneath me. I keep stabbing her, my movements slowing as the magical energy sustaining me abruptly drains away, and my voice grows hoarse from all the screaming. I keep going and going, each blow weaker than the last, until a pair of hands clasp my bloody ones to stop me.

“Harlow,” Anson’s familiar and soothing voice says. “Stop. It’s over. She’s gone now.”

I fight his hold with a few feeble attempts before giving up and letting him take the bloody knife from my hand.

“Good,” he coos. “Now let’s get that ring off of you, okay?”

I nod as I collapse against Anson, too spent to speak just yet. It feels like my body has been completely sucked dry of energy. He takes my left hand in his and slides the ring off, its passage eased by the blood slicking my finger.

Anson gasps, then grows incredibly still against me. “Shit,” he says in a quiet, yet horrified voice. “What did you do?”

I gather enough strength to lean away and look at Anson’s face. He’s staring at the ring with wide eyes.

“What?” I ask.

He meets my gaze and frowns. “The ring’s magic. It’s… it’s gone. The thing is just a useless trinket now.”

“That’s good,” I reply with a shudder, happy the damn thing can’t affect me again, or anyone else, for that matter. I don’t even care if I don’t know why its power is gone. I’ve never felt so out of control, so driven by mindless violence to hurt and kill. It was worse than when Viktor Bravas controlled me, because this time I knew exactly what was going on and still relished every second. The thought makes my stomach churn and my mouth water with the need to empty my guts out. I fight it down with a shudder. I don’t have the energy left to waste on vomiting.

Anson’s frown deepens. “I sure fucking hope so.” He tucks the ring into his pants pocket. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to hold on to it and examine it at home.”

“Fine by me,” I say with a shiver of revulsion. I hope I never set eyes on the damn thing again.

“Harlow!” Mercer calls out from behind us. “We need you!”

I turn to see Ameera, Ethan, and Mercer kneeling around Van, and suddenly I have energy to spare.

“Van!” I shout and struggle to my feet with Anson’s help. He supports me as I stagger toward Van on rubbery legs, keeping me from face-planting on the ground in my haste to get to my mate.

I drop to my knees next to Van and shove Ameera aside with a scowl as I pull his head into my lap. I’m feeling possessive of him, and his vampire ex is way too close to him for my comfort. I look down at his massive, furry head. His eyes are closed, his mouth is slack with his tongue lolling out between his huge fangs, and he’s barely breathing. I caress the soft fur of his cheek as I access the rest of him, noting the blood soaking most of his fur.

“Van?” I call out to rouse him, patting his face as I do. “Van!” Nothing happens, so I touch his aura and discover that it’s fading in strength. Fuck, he’s dying again. I look up at Ethan’s and Mercer’s wide and panicked eyes.

“He needs to shift to heal,” Mercer says in a frantic voice, “but he’s not doing it.”

“Can’t you make him shift?” Ameera asks him, earning herself a glare from both werewolves.

“Only an Alpha can do that for his pack members,” Ethan answers with a scornful expression. “And he’s our Alpha.”

Ameera puts her hands up, palms out. “Sorry,” she says in an annoyed tone. “I didn’t know.”

“Maybe I can do something,” Anson adds as he drops to the ground next to me. “Though I don’t know jack shit about werewolf magic,” he adds as he reaches out to touch Van.

“No,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Let me try again.” Something tells me it has to me or this won’t work, and we’re running out of time.

I place both my hands on Van’s head, then lean over him and close my eyes as I reach for his aura again. This time we sink into each other deeply, the familiar and comforting feel of him like warm water washing over me, and I’m startled to discover that not all of him is familiar to me anymore. There’s this strange, wild and raw edge to his aura that I realize must be his newly awakened wolf. I’m entranced by it and extend a metaphorical hand out to him as if he’s a skittish wild animal I need to coax closer.

I needn’t have bothered. He comes to me like an eager wriggling puppy and swirls all around me with a possessiveness that amuses me. I can almost hear him repeating the words mate and mine over and over again. He’s big and bold and glorious, and I love him immediately. He’ll be a perfect complement to Van’s strong and dominant fae half. But right now that half of him is so weakened from violating the bargain with Móira and everything else he’s been through tonight, including his first shift, that the wolf is overshadowing it. It’s to where Van is struggling to find the energy to shift back and his grievous wounds are slowly killing him. He needs help, and I’m here to do just that. I just need to figure out how.

Not sure what else to try, I decide to go with my instincts and wrap my aura more tightly around Van’s. Then I simultaneously rein in his overly rambunctious wolf half and give some of my strength to his fae half, in the hopes he’ll find enough energy to shift. Unfortunately, my strength has been taxed by my fight with Móira and it just isn’t enough to help his exhausted fae half suppress his much stronger animal half. He needs more energy than I can give him, and I despair at the thought of failing and losing him forever.

The wolf picks up on my distress and wraps himself around me in a metaphorical hug to comfort and soothe me. He’s so solid and strong that I can’t help but feel better, more energized, and that’s when I realize how I’m going to save Van. Hope springs anew in my heart. The wolf’s energy can help Van gain the strength he needs to shift and heal.

I reach for Van’s fae half to show the wolf just how weakened that part of him is. He understands what’s happening and begins feeding some of his energy to his other half. Within seconds, it’s as if a switch was flipped and it perks Van’s fae half up enough that he shifts, his skull changing shape between my hands. I open my eyes and watch the transformation with anticipation, pleased as he heals while morphing into the familiar man I love. The faint, yet still painful sounding clicks and snaps coming from his body are like music to my ears and soon he’s lying on his back with his head in my lap without a scratch on him I can see. A few moments pass as he lies unconscious, despite his now healthy aura and his easy breaths, and I worry that something is wrong since he hasn’t woken up yet.

“Van?” I ask as I brush my fingers along his cheek, a bit of fear clenching up in my belly.

His eyelids flutter a few times then open half way, his irises their normal dark gray since his wolf is no longer dominating his aura. A confused expression ghosts across his face until he focuses on mine and gives me a soft smile. But just as quickly, it turns to concern.

“Querida?” he asks as he reaches up to touch my cheek. “Are you alright?”

His fingers come away bloody, and I realize why he’s worried about me. Móira’s blood is still all over me.

“It’s not mine, babe,” I reassure him.

His frown deepens, and I can feel his doubt and worry through our bond. There’s a shit ton of blood on me, and I’m sure it looks terrible to him.

“Here,” Ethan says from across Van’s supine body, then pulls his T-shirt off over his head and hands it to me. “Show him.”

I nod my thanks as I use the T-shirt to wipe the worst of the blood off my face, neck, and hands. “See?” I tell Van when I’m finished. “Not a scratch on me.”

“B… but Móira,” he says and glances around, looking for her.

“Is dead,” I say with a huge grin. “She’ll never control you or anyone else ever again.”

His brows furrow. “You… you’re sure?”

I nod and when that doesn’t convince him, I scoop an arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. Then I point toward Móira’s bloodied corpse a few yards away. “Look,” I say. “I killed her. You’re free.” My voice wobbles on that last word as relief floods Van’s entire being.

He looks at me with tears welling up in his eyes. “Harlow,” he says in a hoarse voice, too overwhelmed to say anything else. Luckily, he doesn’t need to because I can feel every nuance of his gratitude and his affection for me.

“Your life is yours again, Van,” I say with a watery smile as I grab one of his hands and grip it tight. “You can do whatever you want with it now.”

His fingers tighten around mine. “I know exactly how I want to spend it,” he says as he smiles back at me. “With you.”

“You’re getting all sappy on me, babe,” I reply with a smirk. “Pretty soon you’ll be going on and on about your eternal love for me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he says with a wry twist of his lips, then he pulls his eyes from mine and glances around at the others. His gaze lands on Ethan and Mercer with a worried frown. “Are you boys okay?”

“Never better,” Ethan says with a wide grin.

“What more could we ask for?” Mercer says with a contented smile. “Our pack is whole,” he adds as he shoots a quick glance at me before meeting Van’s eyes again. “And our Alpha is alive and well.”

“And naked,” Van says with a smirk. “Perhaps you can get your alpha a shirt and a pair of pants.”

“Consider it done,” Mercer replies, then stands along with his mate, and the two men head over to Van’s Mercedes to get some clothes for him out of the trunk.

Van’s eyes land on Ameera next with a grave expression, and I bristle a little, feeling possessive over my mate. Van squeezes my hand in reassurance.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping us,” he says to her.

“No need,” she replies with a shake of her head. “I had my own motives for being here tonight.”

Anson lets out a derisive snort. “Of course she did,” he mumbles under his breath.

Ameera shoots a scowl at the mage before continuing. “That being said, I would have done it anyway given our past.” She touches Van’s shoulder, and I fight the urge to slap it away and appear ungrateful for her help tonight. “Plus, it was the right thing to do.” She stands and gives Van and me a nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Anson. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some loose ends to take care of before sunrise, and Samuel is in dire need of my help.”

We both nod as she turns to walk over to where Samuel still lies, bloody and broken on the ground, but thankfully not permanently dead. I grimace in sympathy as she helps her progeny onto unsteady feet because his face is still unrecognizable from all the bleeding cuts and swelling.

“What?” Anson asks in an indignant tone. “You’re not gonna stick around to help us clean up this mess?” he adds as he sweeps a hand around at all the fallen bodies. The sun might be able to take care of the dead vampires, but the fae bodies aren’t going anywhere without some help.

Ameera turns a condescending smile on Anson “You’re a big lad,” she says as Samuel sags heavily against her. “I think you can handle it.”

Then she turns and helps Samuel over to one of Lynch’s abandoned vehicles without another word. Anson stares after Ameera with anger and what I suspect is something a bit more amorous, since he keeps staring at her ass as she walks away more than anything else.

“You two should just get a room already and hate-fuck it out,” I comment after the two vampires climb inside the SUV and drive away, looking to get a rise out of him and earn a scowl for my efforts. Mission accomplished.

“Bite your fucking tongue,” he snarls out at me with a disgusted expression, then rises to his feet and stomps off, mumbling something about cleaning up this fucking mess.

“Ooh,” I say to Van in a voice loud enough for Anson to hear. “Someone’s a little touchy.”

Anson responds by flipping me off over his shoulder, continuing to walk away while I laugh at his response. Then I focus on Van again and note his sober expression.

“What is it?” I ask him.

“Where’s the ring?” he asks.

“Anson has it,” I answer vaguely because I know he won’t like the fact that I used the ring’s power.

“Did he destroy it?”

I grimace. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

I wince. “I may have put it on to defeat Móira before I gave it to him.”

“You what?” he asks with a horrified expression.

“What choice did I have?” I ask, feeling defensive. “It was the only way to save you.”

“Harlow,” he says with a frown. “Who knows what it could have done to you.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “It helped me win, and then I took it off. No harm, no foul.”

“That you know of,” he replies. “God only knows what its magic did to you while you wore it or still could be affecting you for all we know.”

“That’s impossible.”

“How do you know?” he asks with a wary expression.

“Because Anson said its magic is gone now.”

“Gone?”

I nod. “He doesn’t know why.”

He stares ahead for a long moment. “Well, that can’t be good.”

I don’t know what else to say because I feel the same, but I don’t want to dwell on it since we have so much to be thankful for right now. Why borrow trouble when we don’t have to? I decide a distraction is in order.

“You know what is good?” I ask with a soft smile as I rub my thumb along the back of his hand. “You and me.”

Our eyes meet and everything else fades away as our auras swirl together. He reaches up to cup my cheek and returns my smile. “I agree.” Then he leans closer to press his lips to mine in a hard and searing kiss that sends a shiver down to my toes. Goddamn, it feels good. We’re both breathless when we pull away and rest our foreheads together.

“I love you,” he whispers as his hand slips up into my hair so he can cup the back of my neck.

His heartfelt words and the feel of his hand clasping my neck have desire shuddering through me. “I love you too,” I murmur back, unafraid to say the words now because there’s no point in denying the truth any longer. “Now let’s go home and fuck like bunnies,” I add with a wicked smirk

He chuckles and leans back with a wide grin. “Nothing would please me more, querida.”

We kiss again until Mercer clears his throat to interrupt us. We break apart to find that the two werewolves have returned with some clothes for Van. I help him stand on unsteady legs, then support him while he slips on a T-shirt and sweat pants before we both totter hand in hand over to Van’s Mercedes. We slip into the backseat together, and Ethan and Mercer climb into the front for the drive home, leaving Ethan’s truck for Anson to use after he cleans up the mess. Van and I scoot closer together, twinning around each other physically and spiritually, then kiss slowly and sweetly like we have all the time in the world to savor each other. And do you want to know what the best part is? For once, we actually do.