“This is unexpected, incubus,” Komir said as Wraith halted in the center of a pentagram that had been set into the floor with white marble tiles. “What brings you?”

“A request.”

A black-haired female to Komir’s right laughed. “You, who mocks vampire law and kills your own kind, want something from us?”

“That about sums it up.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, and offered a stiff, “Apologies. I’m exhausted. You know, from saving the world.”

One of Komir’s silver eyebrows shot up. “Yes, we heard.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. “So what do you want, oh, great hero?”

Sarcastic ass. Wraith respected that, though he hated to respect anything about these f**kwits. He could have asked one of UG’s vampire staff members to turn Serena, but he couldn’t risk the consequences. It went against vampire law to turn a human without permission from the Council. Those who broke the law were subject to a variety of punishments, including execution, a fate shared by their prodigies.

“The human I would take as my mate is dying. I, ah… humbly… beg that she be turned.” He’d rather be beaten than beg for anything. But this was for Serena, and for her, he’d plead until he turned blue.

A low rumble came from a red-haired male at the end of the semi-circle. “You slaughtered my brother. I’d rather kill you than help you.”

Several others murmured in agreement with Red, and Wraith’s gut did a slow slide to his feet. They were going to turn him down.

“Please,” Wraith said, bowing his head. “I’ll do anything.”

Komir sat there, all imperious. After a long, dramatic silence, he addressed the Council. “Who objects to Wraith’s request?”

Everyone raised their hand, and Wraith’s knees went rubbery.

“Council aside, I’m inclined to grant you this favor,” Komir said, and Wraith’s heart leaped. “But it goes against everything we are. We must choose those we change very carefully. A vampire who sires another is responsible for introducing the changeling to vampire culture. We spend a year with them, teaching our ways, sharing everything from feeding to sex.”

Wraith went taut, couldn’t prevent the low-pitched growl in his chest. No vampire would take Serena to bed. Ever. “I will do that.”

“You? You’ve shunned vampire society and made a mockery of it. Murdered your own kind without mercy.”

“I was wrong.”

“You lie.”

Of course he did. Serena’s life was on the line, and he’d never had a problem with lying. He was usually more convincing, however.

He stepped forward. “See these eyes? They should be brown. But they’re blue because vampires gouged out the ones I was born with. Vampires. Before they did it, they hung me from rafters and peeled off my skin. Burned the soles of my feet with blowtorches. Gutted me so my brothers had to shove everything back in and tack my intestines in place so they wouldn’t slide down to my nail-less toes.” He stepped out of the circle he was supposed to be standing inside. “So tell me, you bunch of dickless f**ks, why I should have embraced my vampire half. Tell me!”

Several of them looked away.

“That’s what I thought.”

Komir stood. “Your brothers informed us of your past. Your greatest fear is torture, is it not?”

“It’s my second greatest fear,” Wraith said, his voice strong and sure. “My first is to lose Serena.”

“I almost believe you.”

“You’d better.”

“Perhaps you should prove it.” Komir walked from around the half-moon table and stopped beside a blood-stained platform. “There has been much pain on both sides—yours and ours. But there will be more. If you wish to save your female, you will face your fear to do it.”

Oh, f**k.

“Are you willing?”

Wraith glanced at the platform, and flashbacks of being strung up in the warehouse blazed through his mind.

He fought to stay upright as he faced Komir. The charm couldn’t protect him from this if he agreed to it. “Yes.”

“Then bring her to me.”

Relief flooded Wraith, but dread followed on its heels when he glanced at the altar. No way was Serena coming here, to be laid out like a sacrifice on the stone slab. He knew how the ritual worked. The human would be stripped and laid out before the Council. The members would inspect the human, touch them in whatever manner they wished until the sire, also na**d, mounted them. Sex wasn’t required to make the change, but it went hand-in-hand, and often while sharing blood, the sire and victim f**ked as the Council observed. Or participated.

“You’ll go to her,” Wraith said.

Komir steepled his fingers in front of him. “You don’t truly want this, do you?”

“Serena is too sick to move.” To be safe, he added through gritted teeth, “If it should please you.”

A draft of cold air circulated around the room, bringing with it the Key’s displeasure. He flashed from where he was standing to directly behind Wraith, pressed his chest to Wraith’s back as he leaned in and put his mouth to Wraith’s ear.

“None of this pleases me,” he murmured. “But that you would take a vampire as a mate after all you’ve suffered… perhaps it’s time that the Council gives you a fresh start. But Serena will be mine to indoctrinate into vampire life.”

Wraith wanted to wail with grief, but if this was the only way to keep her from dying, he’d have to deal with it. Somehow.

But the second she was released from Komir’s care, Wraith was bonding with her. She was his and he was going to make sure no male of any species touched her ever again.

“Yes,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and said louder, so everyone in the f**king room could hear. “Yes.”

Komir bared his teeth. “Then let’s go kill your woman.”

Thirty-one

Wraith rushed into Serena’s room with Komir on his heels. Shade was sitting at Serena’s bedside, head bowed, fingers wrapped so tightly around her wrist that her hand had turned white. Shade’s dermoire was glowing fiercely, and Wraith knew he was burning a buttload of energy to keep her alive. Shade didn’t even look up at him. Didn’t say a word.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Eidolon came in behind Wraith. He was in scrubs, his stethoscope looped around his neck, looking every bit the doctor he was—including his somber expression.

“I’m sorry, Wraith,” he said softly, “but the moment Shade lets go—”

“Then don’t let go.” Wraith turned to Komir. “It’ll still work, right?”

“Perhaps. If she is able to swallow blood.” Komir shook his head. “There’s always a risk—fully ten percent of turnings don’t take. And with her being this far gone…”

“Ah… what’s going on?” Eidolon eyed Komir. “Is this what I think it is?”

“If you’re thinking your brother wants me to turn this human into a vampire, then yes, it’s what you think it is.”

“Hell’s bells,” Shade muttered, still not looking up.

“I won’t argue about this,” Wraith said. E held up his hands and took a step back.

Komir moved to Serena’s side, and Wraith’s heart rate jacked up. Nerves and jealousy were going to tear him apart. Though the elder vamp must have felt the waves of heat coming off Wraith, he ignored them. He walked around the head of the bed and braced Serena’s face in his hands. Gently, he tilted her head to the side. His fangs extended, huge suckers that were, in a moment, going to be buried deep in Serena’s neck.

“It would be better if I were lying with her—”

“No!” Wraith shouted, and E grabbed him before he could do something stupid, like lay out the vampire. The writing on the walls began to pulse as the threat of violence grew.

“Idle down, bro,” E said, and Wraith backed toward the door, a terrible, possessive ache centering in his chest. Maybe if he didn’t watch…

Komir released Serena, and oh, f**k, Wraith had just ruined everything. The vampire brushed past him. “Come with me.”

Wraith had no choice but to follow, and once they were outside the room, Komir turned to him. “Strike me.”

The Haven spell prevented violence, but, like Serena’s charm, if the person wanted the violence, that was different. “Why?”

“Let your aggression out now, demon. The ritual cannot be interrupted.”

Wraith clenched his fists. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Then may I strike you?”

“Fine. Then let’s get on with—” Komir’s fist slammed into Wraith’s mouth with the force of a wrecking ball, knocking him sideways and splashing blood onto the wall. Another blow came at him, but Wraith spun out of reach and smashed his fist into Komir’s jaw.

The vampire crashed into a cart and slid ungracefully to the floor. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles and winced. “You have a hard right hook and a hard face.” He shook his hand and shoved it into his mouth. His entire body tensed, and he jerked his hand from his lips. He stared at it. Then he stared at Wraith. “You taste of… angel.”

“Ah, that. I sort of drank from one today—”

Komir came to his feet and touched his slicked-back silver hair, as though it might have gotten messed up during the scuffle. “Then you don’t need me.”

Hope soared through Wraith, followed immediately by confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Our race… it was created by fallen angels. Their blood flows through our veins. It is the fallen angel blood that activates the turn.”

“So if Serena drinks my blood before Reaver’s blood filters out…”

“Yes. Go.”

“I don’t know how. The details.” The admission shamed him. He’d spent too many years mired in hate to learn anything about vampires besides how to hunt and kill them.