as if the wolves they’ve become are enjoying the wildness either.
I get to my feet, a twisting sensation in my gut driving me to pace the floor in my hobbled way, worrying my lip under my teeth.
How can I sit here when the men who’ve sheltered me, cared for me, and fought to the death for me struggle in the grips of this curse? I don’t know what caused it or who might be responsible, but they don’t deserve it. No one deserves to be forced into becoming the thing they hate most.
Thunk. Thunk. One of them is hurling himself into a door or perhaps a wall over and over again. Oh, God. How bruised will his body be when he comes back to himself? Will they tear into themselves when they can’t find anyone else to take out their rage on?
I can’t let it come to that. I wanted to have more say in everything going on around me; I wanted to be a participant rather than an object. Well, this is the one time I definitely can intervene in a way that’ll make a real difference, isn’t it?
The second that thought crosses through my head, a strange stillness fills my chest. I stop by the door, the tension in my gut easing. My heart is thudding faster, but not with fear—or at least, not only fear. There’s resolve in there too. Resolve and hope and a sense of power like the moment I let myself become furious for the first time. Except this calm certainty is more potent than the chaotic surge of anger.
Sylas wouldn’t let himself ask me. He wouldn’t take my blood even when I offered. He probably didn’t trust that I was doing it freely and not because I felt I owed him.
The wolf he’s turned into won’t refuse me, though. If I can bring him and August and Whitt out of this wild state, no one will find out. It won’t hurt any of us, and it’ll release them from this horror.
I can make this one small offering of help after everything they’ve done for me. I’m the only one who can help them through this.
The resolve spreads through my limbs, bolstering my courage. It isn’t a question of whether I’ll do it. It’s only a matter of how.
If I’m not careful, if I end up getting hurt, they’ll come out of the wild state only to be wracked with guilt. There’s got to be a way to avoid their jaws. All they need is a tiny bit of blood. Aerik never took more than would leave me a little light-headed, and that was enough to make tonics for dozens, maybe hundreds of fae.
I lean close to the door. A savage bark reaches my ears, then a sound like glass smashing, but it’s definitely not close. There’s at least one more door between my room and wherever the fae men have shut themselves away.
I have to go out and see what I’m working with before I can come up with a plan.
My throat tightening, I push the bolts aside and ease open the bedroom door. I keep my hand clamped on the knob as I peek outside, but the hall is empty as I expected, nothing but the dim glow of the single lantern orb halfway down its length.
Creeping out, I can discern the violent noises more clearly. As far as I can tell, they’re all coming from below—I don’t think any of my protectors are on this floor. They’ll have wanted to keep themselves as far from me as possible.
Sylas is going to be pissed off about how I risked myself even if I don’t get injured in the process. Oh well. I raise my chin and limp onward. I belong to me, and this is my life to risk or not. He’ll just have to get over it.
I’ve reached the top of the staircase when a roar loud enough to make the floor tremble tears through the keep. My legs lock, my pulse lurching.
An icy wave of panic races through me. The images flicker up: blood and grass and twilight shadows, cries and snarls, pain searing through my shoulder—
I close my eyes and grit my teeth, my hands clenched so tight my fingernails dig into my palms. That night was horrible and brutal, and maybe I’ll never make up for the devastation I caused, but it’s been nearly ten years now. I’ll definitely never make up for it if I let the