came between them.
A loud thud sounded on the wall as Win slammed Lena into it, setting the crystals in the sconces tinkling. In a blink, he had her pinned, the long stake in his hand jammed up under her chin with enough force to tilt Lena’s head back. Freezing, she eyed the stake and then Win.
His face, twisted with rage, was an inch from Lena’s white fangs. “Tell me, have I the way of it?” He tightened his grip on the stake, and Lena sucked in a breath. A trickle of garnet blood ran down her neck. “I wouldn’t want to get it wrong now.”
“That should do,” she said through her teeth. Her dark gaze slid to Poppy. “You owed me that hit. I should not have tried to strike back. Now call your dog to heel.”
Win bared his teeth. “You do not give orders to her.” Slashed of face and murder in his eyes, he appeared the monster in the room. But it was simply his strength unfettered by civilization. He’d been torn apart and reformed into something more. Strange as it was, Poppy could not shake the feeling that part of him had been found rather than lost. That Winston Lane had finally become wholly what he was meant to be.
Beyond the crackle of fire in the grate and the sound of the mantel clock ticking came an unmistakable cry, a long, almost mournful sound that ended on a sharp, rising note that spoke of rage. Win paled, but his concentration did not ebb. Lena too paled. As if answering the first howl, another, and another cry rang out. The call of wolves.
“They call for you, Lena.” Poppy took a step toward her, speaking as if her heart was not broken. “Jack Talent is Ian Ranulf’s kin. He thinks of him as a son. He calls for blood.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed. “I do not fear The Ranulf.”
Poppy glanced at Win. “Let her go.” When Win tensed, she said, “Ian has the greater claim. Let him have it.”
Another howl broke out. Stronger. It was The Ranulf’s call.
“For what we were,” Poppy said, “I will delay them, give you a head start.” Sadness filled her breast and made it throb. It would enrage Ian, but despite what Lena had done, she would do this small thing for her.
Win stepped back, a swift move that gave him space to defend himself should Lena retaliate. But she did not. With dignity, she straightened her gown and smoothed her hair. “I will not run from him.”
“Go then,” Poppy said to Lena. “Face your fate, and maybe you shall come out alive.”
Cool and implacable as always, Lena nodded sharply. Standing next to Win, she appeared little more than a girl just out of the schoolroom. An illusion if ever there was one. “I trust you to make the proper decision, Poppy Ann Ellis Lane.” Her dark eyes drifted over Poppy’s face, and her tone softened. “You are a better leader than your mother was. Stronger of heart.”
Later Poppy would feel this. Later. She held her breath as she nodded back.
Lena blinked once. “He’s with Cornelius Evernight in County Clare, being raised as an Evernight. Margaret named him St. John.”
Poppy’s throat convulsed. She could not speak.
“Be careful, child.” Her black eyes stared, unblinking. “The Nex infiltrated my brood and turned them against me. Even now, most of the Onus are converting to their side, lured by promises of greater power and free rein to prey on humans. Dark times lie ahead, I fear.”
In the next breath, Lena was gone, moving from the room with such speed that it made a mockery of their efforts to threaten her earlier. Had Lena wanted to kill either of them, she would have done so.
Beyond the room, the howls came again, and then snarls and the gnashing of teeth. When her mother had died, it was Lena who had filled that role, Lena that she placed her trust in. Hearing her die cut through Poppy’s soul. Poppy cried out and turned toward Win. His arms came around her tight and strong. He was shaking, his flesh cold where she pressed her face against his neck. But he held her, leaning heavily against the wall. The sounds of wolves fighting grew louder. It was his nightmare, she knew. Just as she knew that he fought now to govern that terror.
“Win.” She clung more tightly.
They clutched each other, cheeks pressed together, breathing the same deep breaths as the sounds of violence ran