attention to her myriad talents, she would be the one to do it now. If a mediocre young man could crow to the world about his mediocrity, then why should a superior young woman not do the same?
Yes. Émilie should tell Luca. It was past time.
But she wouldn’t. Not now. Not when she still had a winning hand to play.
Her grin widened. Her wolf spy had told her something else. Luca’s younger cousin Michael was falling in love with Celine Rousseau, the girl Bastien had died trying to protect.
Fortune truly did smile upon the bold.
A simple mind might think it sufficient to upset the balance between these immortal foes by telling Luca what she had learned. But Émilie wished to wreak more than temporary havoc. She wished to destroy the very foundation. A foundation that put her in second place, no matter how much more gifted or worthy she might be to those lauded above her.
It would be a victory to savor when Michael was drawn into their world. A world from which Luca endeavored to spare his cousin for the whole of the young detective’s life. Though the blood of the wolf ran through Michael’s veins, he managed to evade the curse bestowed on his kind by the Banishment. He had not yet turned, nor was there much chance of him turning. If things continued in this fashion, Michael could live his entire life removed from this world of dark magic.
Émilie had no intention of keeping Michael removed, especially after what she’d learned. True, it was unfair to the boy. But boys like him played with fire, and when they did, other people burned.
Now that the tables were turned, should it be any different?
Delicious to think Nicodemus Saint Germain’s heir and the youngest cousin of Luca Grimaldi could be set on a path of mutual destruction. The events that were sure to follow would be delightful to witness and exploit.
But first . . . but first . . . Émilie had much to consider.
Unlike vampires, there were three ways for a wolf to be made.
The first was to be the immediate heir to the legacy. The eldest remaining male of the bloodline, which was how Luca had inherited the role, following the death of his father during the last war with the Fallen. Indeed, Luca’s father had only earned the position a handful of years prior, after Michael’s father had perished in battle.
The second way to be turned was to be bitten by a wolf. This was the way Émilie had become a member of the pack. It was risky and painful, for the mortal in question had to forfeit their human life in order to undergo the change. Many succumbed to their wounds or died during the agony of their first full moon.
It was a risk Émilie had gladly undertaken. Fire was necessary to forge a weapon of steel.
The last and most heinous of all ways to become a wolf was to kill a member of your own family within the bloodline. Often the wolves who were turned in such a manner were shunned. Hunted by the rest of the pack for daring to murder one of their own.
Émilie tilted her head toward the sky.
How . . . thrilling a prospect.
And in the ensuing chaos, if a star were to rise from behind the shadow of a waning moon, who would hesitate to gaze upon its light?
Émilie la Loup had plans. Plans upon plans. And it was time for her to execute, in more ways than one.
Perhaps she would start with a wedding.
BASTIEN
I cannot sleep, so I do not dream.
Perhaps it is impossible for a vampire as troubled as I am to dream. Perhaps such a thing is the purview of the living: to envision a life apart from reality. To hope for something better and richer than the wretched now.
I lie awake in my four-poster bed, the velvet curtains drawn. I stare at the golden lion medallion situated in the tufted canopy above me, my thoughts taking shape in the darkness like shadows coming to life.
Without warning, I sit up.
Sunan the Immortal Unmaker.
If I returned to the swamp and asked to speak with Cambion, what might happen?
Dark laughter rumbles from my chest.
I bested the tiger-beast in the ring using nothing more than sheer luck. I shamed him in front of his peers. In front of those he considered family. Cambion of the Swamp would not look kindly upon me, despite my sparing his life. It was clear