Paris took up a position near Aidan’s side. “You think threatening the doctor is the best idea? I mean, you weren’t really going to…” His words trailed off when Aidan looked at him. Just looked. Then Paris gave a low whistle. “That close to the edge, are you?”
He was already over the edge.
Annette stood at the foot of the bed. Her hands were twisted in front of her. “This isn’t what I saw.”
Aidan wasn’t sure what the fuck that meant. He marched toward her. “Use a spell. Get one of those damn dolls that I’ve seen you manipulate. Make her survive.”
“Survive the night?” Her stare darted from him to Paris. “That what you want?”
“I want her always.”
“Be careful what you wish for…” she murmured.
Jane was the only thing he’d ever wished for. “I do not have time for the bullshit that keeps coming my way.” He wanted to be clear. “Jane. She matters. Make it so that she lives.”
“So that she survives the night?” Annette asked carefully.
“Why the hell do you keep saying that?” Aidan shouted.
Everyone jumped.
Bob jumped, then stilled, his gloved fingers poised over Jane’s stomach.
Annette swallowed. “I just want to be sure I understand what you’re asking for. Spells are very particular. One wrong word can bring a world of hurt.”
He leaned in toward her. “I am already in a world of hurt. So is Jane. That’s why I need you. I need her pain to stop. I need her to pull through. Survive the night? Hell, yes, I want that. If she makes it through tonight, then she’ll just keep getting stronger. I gave her my blood to make sure of that.”
Her lips parted. “You…you gave her your blood? But she’s human…”
No, not technically true. Vamp-in-waiting.
“I’ve done it before, and if she needs it, I’ll do it again. Alpha blood heals, and I wasn’t just going to let Jane die in my arms.” He gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “That isn’t an option.”
“It may be.”
Breathing was hard. The wolf clawed at his skin, demanding his freedom from the inside.
“She’ll survive the night,” Annette told him. “Beyond that, I can promise nothing.”
He wanted her to promise him everything. That Jane would recover fully. That Jane would have a long, happy life. That Jane would live to be ninety-eight and surrounded by a giant family that loved her and needed her and—
“Drew…”
Jane’s soft whisper cut right through him. He spun to face the bed. Jane’s eyes were still closed, but she’d definitely spoken that one word.
“Drew…” Again, her brother’s name came from her. So soft. So desperate. “H-help…me…”
Aidan locked his gaze on Paris. “Find the brother. Bring him to me.” Because anything Jane wanted, he would get for her.
Annette started chanting. Bob was working with his surgical instruments. Jane was bleeding and Aidan…he did something he hadn’t done before in his entire life.
He prayed.
Survive the night.
***
Police Captain Vivian Harris stared at the body. Another human, slashed and tortured and left to die in a New Orleans cemetery.
This was bad. So freaking bad.
“Cover the body,” she ordered a nearby cop, a young guy in uniform. What was his name? Something Mitchell. Michael? Mason? Jane had worked with the guy before, had spoken pretty highly of him…
So maybe they could count on him right now. “I want the scene secured. No reporters get in here, got me? Not a single one is to photograph the body. I’ll get the ME out here immediately, and I don’t want this crime scene contaminated. We have a killer to stop, and we will stop him.”
The young cop’s gaze was on the dead man. “What…what kind of knife do you think the killer used?”
She didn’t think the killer had used a knife.
Vivian recognized claw marks when she saw them. After all, she had her own set of claws that sprang out when the time was right.
A wolf, hiding in plain sight among the humans. It was the way most of her kind lived.
“Not normal stab wounds,” the young cop continued. “They’re more slashes, spaced out just the same and—”
“No reporters,” Vivian interrupted him, her voice clipped. “If I see a shot of this scene on tomorrow’s news, I will hold you personally responsible.”
He snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now I’m going to call Detective Hart.” Again. “She’ll be lead on this case, and I want her ass down here.” She’d been trying to call Jane all during the ride to the cemetery. Where the hell was the woman? Vivian paced away from the scene, yanking out her phone. She waited impatiently for the call to connect and then…
Music. Hard rock. The music reached her ears, a sound that others at the scene didn’t seem to notice.
Because they aren’t werewolves. Sure, she wasn’t an alpha. Vivian couldn’t do a full-on shift like Aidan, but her senses were enhanced, and there was no fight she hadn’t ever won. Superior strength was always a plus.