My body flowed forward, spine bowing to arch toward him—if I took an actual step, I could not tell. His index finger touched my sternum between my breasts and sank lower, leaving a smear of his blood.
Nana’s voice joined that of my bottled anger, shouting at me, calling through the fog, insistent but ineffectual.
Beverley ran at Menessos, but Goliath grabbed her and restrained her gently but firmly.
Menessos added an oblong loop above the first mark and connected them with a crossbar under the loop. He spoke. I didn’t understand the words, but the rhythm and cadence complemented his masculine tone and mimicked the melody I’d been forced to sing.
Somehow, that melody connected us.
His powerful, dark eyes met mine and bored into me, reading my thoughts. And I knew his: he would not deny what he had done. Why should I? he seemed to ask.
He knew I was disgusted and horrified.
His answering expression could have been that of a warrior demanding information from me and warning me of the means of torture he could employ, or he could even have been Arthur ensconced in the passion that led to his fathering Mordred. I began to yield.
As his chant ended, the ankh he’d drawn on my skin began to glow.
It itched.
It burned.
It felt as if every cell of my skin under his bloody mark called to intangible pieces of my soul, pieces that answered readily only to be bound tight in the thick syrup of his blood. Retreating, those little pieces took the essence of him, sinking deep inside of me to hide in places even post-mortem medical examiners wouldn’t find.
Still the energy of fire nibbled at my bare skin, and sandy earth-energy scraped my flesh sore. Water offered buoyancy, but only in waves that left me feeling heavy as they ebbed. Air, the breath of life, seemed only to enhance the heat of fire and make it hotter.
I wanted to be naked. I wanted him to see me and touch me. I wanted to feel those elements caressing other parts of me.
A new chant met my ears, words I should know but didn’t. Nana shouted at Menessos and commanded him to stop.
Suddenly the bright spotlight of moonlight waned. The howls of four fully formed wolves overpowered all the other voices.
But I couldn’t look around, couldn’t respond to what was happening. My whole world had become focused on the vampire before me, on matching the beat of my heart exactly to his. I could feel each contraction of his heart like a lover’s caressing hand squeezing me. It was quixotic, eager, and indulgent. It was blessedly comforting.
Menessos cupped my face in both of his cold hands and drew me adoringly closer, as if I were the first bloom from a seed he’d planted himself and therefore deserved his loving scrutiny. The kiss I was surprised to find I wanted was a breath away when he spoke: “Tomorrow someone will come for the stake.” His voice resonated inside my head, whispered syllables heard distinctly despite the cacophony around us. “I have honored my oath to you, Persephone Alcmedi.” His hands slid around me as if he would dance with me, and mine conceded to hold him as well. He smelled like hot cinnamon and campfires; his body flowed against mine like a hot, urgent current of fresh magma.
He put his lips to mine in a kiss as fragile as the edge of a toasted marshmallow. I thought of that sticky, melted sweetness thick on my tongue—
My mouth opened to Menessos, and I discovered a new flavor. The savory tang was unlike anything I had known. It was the taste of orgasm, of falling in love, of finding El Dorado in your own backyard.
The sudden coldness of my lips made me realize that Menessos had pulled away. The expression he wore was a complex one. Mystified. Satisfied. Not smug—no, not smug. Yearning.
I touched his cheek. I felt an instant of sadness—the kind of deep, welling misery that brings sobs of grief in choking bouts rising from your throat in tight, painful gasps.
He jerked from my touch, effectively slamming the door on me. In that instant, his surprise was clear. He turned his back on me and stepped to the edge of the circle. With his bloody finger, he traced a rectangle in the air and said, “Open now the door.” He pushed the circle of energy open and passed through.
Goliath neatly stepped to the end of the bed and picked up the book. He slammed it shut with the translation page still inside. He paused only to assess my breasts, then followed Menessos through. Menessos made a move as if shutting the energy door and said, “Sealed again is the door.” He lifted Vivian, and the three of them left.
Chapter 24
I felt drunk, but without the cheerful buzz.
I must have stumbled, because suddenly I was in Nana’s arms. “I’ve got you,” she said.
Nana quoted the barest of quarter releases: “Thank you, elements of earth, air, fire, and water! We release you now. Go and be free. Come willingly if we call upon you again.” She stroked my hair. “If ever we dare to call again. This circle is open. Now slowly,” she said, “Beverley, ease toward the door. No sudden movements. Nice and slow.”
A silvery gray wolf leapt to the doorway and snarled a deep, primal, guttural sound. Beverley stopped dead; to her credit, she did not scream. The wolf was bigger than Ares would ever be. Its muzzle turned slightly upward at us, nostrils flaring and all those gleaming white canines revealed. Slowly, the animal hunched down, preparing to leap—
A larger black wolf leapt onto the gray wolf, snapping and growling vehemently at it. The gray sank onto the floor, head and tail low. It growled low. The black wolf stayed standing over the gray, and clamped the back of its neck with his jaws. He continued snarling viciously until the gray rolled over and showed its belly in submission. Then the black wolf released the other and turned, keeping itself between us and the gray wolf. With one bark he commanded the tawny amber-colored beast to join the gray. With the amber down beside the gray, the black wolf barked to the remaining black-and-gray on the bed—though to this one, the barks were softer.
The black-and-gray’s ears pricked forward, and it crawled to the edge of the mattress, pulling a length of IV tubing with it. It paused and sniffed at the tubing and whimpered. “Dr. Lincoln,” I said softly.
The doctor inched forward. He reached out to the slender foreleg, and the black-and-gray wolf snapped at him, sending him backpedaling with a shout of alarm. He hit the wall hard, and his glasses went crooked. The black wolf leapt a pace forward and growled at the black-and-gray, until the black-and-gray whined and put her head down. The black wolf looked at me.
“Did she get you, Doctor?” I asked.
With a jerk and sudden realization of the danger he was in, the doctor righted his spectacles and checked himself over. “No. No, she didn’t.”
“I think she’s ready to let you remove it now.”
He pressed himself against the wall. “I’m not ready to risk being a wærewolf….” He swallowed so hard it must’ve hurt. “I mean, well…you know.”
I did know, but somebody had to do it. I pulled out of Nana’s grip and staggered to the bed.
Bracing myself against the side of the bed with slightly bent knees, I reached slowly to the wolf’s foreleg. When I gently gripped it, the black-and-gray wolf turned and looked at me steadily. There was no look of friendship or familiarity in those dark eyes, but I realized this was Theo. We’d succeeded! She’d fully transformed. If things had been normal, I might have cried from relief. I was so weary, though, I was too tired even to make tears. I pulled gently on the tape. It had been stuck to her human skin, but that flesh had split away and left the tape not exactly securing the IV anyway. Sliding the needle out was easier than I’d expected it to be. I dropped it onto the bed. Using the footboard as support, I put my weight on my feet again and stepped back.