had memories of watching him fight, teeth and claws rending flesh with unthinkable, wet sounds. The sight of blood didn’t bother her much, but the warmth and smell of it had undone her that night. She’d never heard a man scream like that before. They weren’t memories she’d ever shared much less tried to figure out. It had been easier to run, and keep running. I knew there was a chance he might be in Marcari. I should never have come.
But there were other memories of Faran Kenyon. Like the fact that he’d brought her champagne in bed and listened to her talk about the career she’d have one day, the beautiful photographs she’d take. We did love one another. Until she’d found out what he was.
Their history was a painful tangle, but this moment—here, now—was simple. She refused to watch him die.
“Ma’am,” said one of the guards, his weapon raised. “Step away.”
“I don’t think so.” She stepped closer instead, wiping her sweating palms on the green silk of her tunic. Her stomach felt like a bag of writhing snakes.
At the sound of the guard’s voice, Faran snarled again, showing long, curving canines. He began to stand, but Lexie ordered him down with a gesture. There was no question Faran would protect her, but that would just put him in harm’s way again.
Why had he come through the window, and who had shot him?
“Listen to Ms. Haven,” said Princess Amelie from across the room. “Unless the creature attacks, do not harm it.”
“Your Royal Highness, please!” one of the guards protested, glancing at the prince for direction. “There is enough danger without this!”
“You will respect her wish,” Prince Kyle ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. The prince and princess were well aware of Faran’s secret.
A whisper ran through the crowd, and not a happy one. They saw only a wolf.
Lexie swallowed hard. Panting, Faran regarded her with that unreadable yellow gaze, giving away nothing. She could feel the eyes of the guards on them both, waiting for an excuse to shoot. A sudden image of Faran’s smile, the private one he’d kept for her alone, stabbed through her.
Chloe was still crouched behind the display case. She spoke, low and soft. “I hear dogs.”
So did Lexie, and the baying was getting louder, breaking into the deep bell of bloodhounds and the growling snarl of coursers bred to bring down prey. Lexie’s breath caught. She raised her chin, forcing authority into her voice. “That’s a hunting pack. What’s it doing on the palace grounds?”
One of the guards looked up, his eyes cool. “I don’t know, ma’am.” Since the wolf wasn’t moving, a few of them stepped away, trying to get a better look out the windows. Lexie watched them suspiciously. Had the guard just lied?
And why are they—whoever they are—chasing a werewolf? she added silently. And who is doing the shooting?
Faran was looking at the broken window and giving off a slow, steady rumble of threat. Enough light spilled across the lawn that Lexie could make out what was happening outside. The pack was just beyond the gaping hole where the window used to be. Despite the gunfire, some of the guests had been escaping through the shattered opening. Now they scattered out of the way. At least two dozen dogs were coming fast, straining at their leashes. Their handlers also wore the green coats of the visiting Vidonese.
That was the clue Lexie needed. “Oh!”
Chloe shot her a curious look. “What?”
Lexie dropped her voice. “Does Vidon still hate the supernatural?”
Chloe blinked and gave a single nod. The wolf made a chuffing noise that sounded sarcastic. Lexie swore under her breath, doing her best to still the trembling in her hands.
Until Faran had finally taken her into his confidence, Lexie’s knowledge of the supernatural was limited to B movies and horror novels. Only a handful knew that the King of Marcari had vampire soldiers at his beck and call, or that the King of Vidon had a company of knights sworn to destroy them. And they’re still fighting. Brilliant.
The disagreement between Team Vampire and Team Slayer had kept the two tiny countries at war since the Crusades. The marriage between Amelie and Kyle—a true love match, by all accounts—was supposed to unite the kingdoms and end the hostilities. That was why all this—the party, the ring and the photos—was happening.
But if the Vidonese were hunting a werewolf on Marcari soil, all bets were off.
The hounds spilled over the window frame, howling in fury. Faran was on his feet, suddenly between Lexie and the dogs. The guards flinched, and the wolf froze, stopping just out of reach of his opponents. But he growled so deep and low that she felt it through the floor.
The hounds exploded toward him, but the rush didn’t last. At the last moment, the handlers realized there was a sea of broken glass. Swearing, they hauled on the leashes. The dogs whined and yipped and howled, denied their prey.
Faran stalked back and forth just beyond the litter of shards, limping from the wound in his side. Blood spotted the floor behind him. Still, his jaws dripped with saliva, upper lip curling to show long ivory fangs. One particularly ambitious hound strained forward, front paws rising as it fought the leash. Faran snapped, taunting the howling dogs. Guarding Lexie.
The tension in the room spiraled upward. Several of the Vidonese guards looked ready to start shooting, no matter what the princess had said. “Wolf,” Lexie commanded, fear sharpening her tone. “Heel!”
He gave her a look that sent ice down her spine. “Heel your alpha ass,” she muttered under her breath, dizzy with terror but showing none of it. “Now. Please.”
Faran stubbornly remained standing, but he fell quiet.
“Get those dogs out of here!” Prince Kyle thundered. “This is a palace, not a kennel.”
The west entrance to the rest of the palace slammed open again, the heavy oak doors swinging as if they were no more than paper. Lexie realized that the gunshots both inside and outside the palace had stopped. A tall, dark-haired man with a rifle stood poised on the threshold, looking stern and businesslike in a perfectly tailored black suit.
“Sam!” Chloe exclaimed softly.
For the first time, hope warmed Lexie. Sam Ralston was Chloe’s fiancé and like most of the warriors serving La Compagnie des Morts—the Company of the Dead—Sam was a vampire. He was also utterly reliable, exactly the sort of good guy one wanted on one’s side when the world turned upside down.
Sam was one of Princess Amelie’s personal bodyguards. Lexie frowned, doubt eroding her sense of relief. Why hadn’t he been at the party, guarding the princess? Why were the only guards here Prince Kyle’s?
Sam had clearly been fighting, the collar of his jacket ripped and the front of his shirt smeared with dirt. He strode forward, looking disheveled but in control. His cool regard took in the wolf, the hounds, the royals, and only faltered when he saw Chloe huddled on the floor. His expression grew even darker. A handful of other armed men arrived in his wake, all wearing black. They were vampires, too, judging by their pale faces and graceful movements.
Princess Amelie
