My eyes pinched shut, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
The sound of cool metal brushing against linen had my eyes snapping back open. Caleb held a gun, and he was pointing it right at my heart. His hands trembled violently. God his aim was going to be shit if he pulled that trigger.
“Don’t do this,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “We’re friends. Partners.”
“Gabrielle, I don’t get a choice.”
I gazed at him with sad eyes. My heart felt heavy with the weight of so much conflict. So many things that my death would make wrong.
The bathroom door shook as Andre tried the handle only to find it locked. “Soulmate, I can feel you in there. Please let me in.” His voice had lost much of his angry edge. Now it just held miles and miles of pain.
Caleb cursed.
“Who’s in there with you?” Andre’s voice rose. He tried the handle again, then pounded on the door. “Let me in, or I will break down the goddamn door!” Anger revived. Someone was channeling his inner big, bad wolf.
Caleb’s eyes met mine, and his hands steadied. “I’m sorry—for everything.”
And then he pulled the trigger.
I always assumed when you were shot in the heart, you died instantly.
I was wrong.
I could feel my blood seeping out of my body, trickling out the hole in my chest and seeping into my white dress.
My eyes widened and my lips moved. But I couldn’t find the words to voice this betrayal. I didn’t honestly think he’d do it. Not until that last second. My mistake.
“Gabrielle!” Andre roared.
Caleb dropped the gun like it burned him, his eyes wide. He reached for me, and I could see instant remorse. His features actually flickered, and for the merest moment, I stared back at myself. Then he disappeared, his clothes drifting to the ground.
The bathroom door burst open, and Andre stood at the threshold, looking like my avenging angel. His eyes fell on me.
“Soulmate,” he choked out. In the next instant he held me. Beyond him I heard gasps as people crowded the room.
“Is she okay?” someone shouted behind him.
His eyes darted between me and the wound. He pressed a hand to my heart. In seconds it was covered with my blood.
A small noise escaped him.
His eyes moved back to me. “You’re going to be okay.” Andre’s voice betrayed him.
I couldn’t speak; the pain seemed to seize up my voice. This was it.
“I will save you again.” Andre drew his hand away from my heart and brought his wrist up to his mouth.
His teeth pierced his flesh and the smell of Andre’s blood mingled with mine. He lifted his bloody wrist to my lips. “Drink, soulmate.”
Even as he spoke, my sight dimmed.
Ignoring his wrist, I reached out to stroke his face. “I love you.” I tried to speak the words, but they came out as the barest whisper.
“Dammit, you stay with me, soulmate!” He pressed his wrist to my lips, his blood dripping into my mouth and down my throat. “It doesn’t end like this!”
As his blood hit my system, my body seemed to flare up, trying to shake death from itself. And it was working.
I could feel the bullet wound slowly healing. I gasped in a ragged breath, my back arching. My sight cleared enough to see Andre draw his hand away and reopen his wrist wound.
Caleb shot me. My friend and former partner shot me. The betrayal burned deep—though why should it? We stood on opposing ends of good and evil. Still, hot, bloody tears pooled in my eyes.
“Soulmate,” Andre said, petting my hair, “you’re not going to die.” This time he sounded surer of himself.
In the background, voices were shouting. Someone was yelling about moving me. A moment later Andre cradled me in his arms, his wrist pressed against my mouth once more.
“You need to bite down, love.”
I did so, weakly, taking in a few swallows of his blood before I released him. The taste of it still made me nauseous.
All around us guests watched as Andre carried me across the ballroom, heading for his private quarters.
We never made it.
Above us the chandelier shivered, its tiny crystals tinkling. No one else seemed to notice, not until the walls of Bishopcourt trembled and the floor shook.
Outside the estate, the wind intensified, howling as it battered against the walls. The pitch of it rose until it seemed to be screaming.
Andre’s grip tightened. He figured out then what I already knew: the devil was coming for me, and he would not be denied.
With a sickening shriek, the windows blew in. Guests screamed as glass pelted them.
The front doors banged open, and a violent wind tore through the ballroom, ripping me out of Andre’s arms. It dragged me across the floor to the middle of the room.
I bit down hard on my cheek as the movement jostled my still-healing wound. The unearthly wind separated me not just from Andre, but from everyone.
The shadows of the night coalesced, dragged from the far corners of the room and the night beyond it. It twisted around me in a whirlwind as it came together. If I weren’t entangled right in the middle of it, I would’ve said it looked beautiful. But I could feel the breath of evil licking up my skin, caressing me like a long-lost lover.
It fashioned itself into the shape of a man, and then from the darkness came features. Almond-shaped eyes, pale skin, hair swept back from a high brow, a self-satisfied smirk.
The devil always did like to make an entrance.
“I didn’t crash a party now, did I?” he asked. He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. The show wasn’t for them. It was for me.
“Time’s up,” he said quietly.
I braced myself on my forearms, staring up at him from where I lay on the floor. The wind still pressed against the crowd, keeping them at bay, and I could see Andre actively fighting against it. He wouldn’t be able to pass through, just as I was sure I wouldn’t be able to leave this maelstrom.
Not that I would try. The devil had already taken too much from me. I wouldn’t risk Andre’s life or anyone else’s by turning my back on this deal.