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Chapter Sixteen

Christiana walked toward the vampire in the mask. Vincenzo was more handsome than she’d imagined. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Blane, but his strong jaw and clear Italian lineage blessed him with olive skin and dark hair. It was, in fact, the same man whom she’d danced with at the ball.

“Good evening, my Juliet.” He gave her a sweeping bow.

“Vincenzo, I need to—”

He darted toward her too fast, and it made her take a step back.

He caught her hand and knelt in front of her. On one knee, he gave her the formal greeting with a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. “I have waited so long for this night to come.”

“Look, I’m already—”

A gasp came from beneath the wide brim of the hat. “You’ve taken the
vincolo
with another male?” He was on his feet suddenly, gripping her arms. “What have you done?”

A growl echoed behind her, in the alley, and she knew the sound immediately. Blane was back there somewhere. He’d followed her.

She should have let him go with her.

Hands shoved her toward the car, then she was tossed in.

“Drive,” the voice said.

“No!” She crawled toward the other door. “Don’t drive.”

He gripped the back of her dress and slammed her back into the seat, ripping the fabric on the side where her knee had been against the seam.

Something stung her neck.

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She glanced sideways to see Vincenzo pulling a syringe from her neck.

“There is nothing your
compagno
can do now.”

Christiana brought her arm back, then launched her fist straight into his face.

The vampire rocked backward and dropped the needle into the floor.

She tried to move away, but his hand caught her. Then something started to burn through her veins, radiating from her neck. It seared its way down her shoulder, arm, and into her chest.

It moved up into her head.

She screamed and gripped her head as the pain blinded her eyes. It deadened the senses and made the rest of the world go red.

* * * *

Christiana was screaming.

That was all that mattered.

Blane grabbed the top and side of the limo’s back door and ripped it off in a screech of metal. Vincenzo launched himself into Blane’s chest, knocking him to the ground with the force of a freight train. They rolled on the ground, hands punching and teeth gnashing. He couldn’t quite get a solid hold on him.

Jonas appeared above them. His foot swept inches from Blane’s face, kicking the vampire in the head.

It didn’t shatter his skull, but rolled him onto the ground.

Blane jumped up, ready for him. But his knees wavered. Pain shot up his side.

He looked down to see a long gash in his coat. The fucker had cut him. Deep.

He pulled out his pistol, but couldn’t get a clear shot. Jonas was fighting the thing now, rolling around on the ground.

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A roar came from their scuffle, and Vincenzo started to morph into something else.

Jonas punched the thing in the head as the face started to elongate and go furry. “Oh hell.” It was a werewolf.

But he was one of the—

Could he be
both
?

Jonas ripped a gun from his own shoulder holster and leaned back. He fired a shot.

Christiana’s scream ripped through the sounds of the fight, pulling Blane’s attention toward her. He ran to the car.

Seeing her was as much of a shock as seeing the half wolf.

Her fingers were longer, too long to be normal. Her face had taken an odd shape that was obvious even with the mask.

“Fuck.” Jonas uttered beside him. “What the hell did it do to her?”

“I don’t know.” Blane started to crawl into the limo.

Jonas caught his arm.

“Let go.”

“She might attack you.” He held up a syringe that had a drop of red liquid in it that resembled blood.

Shit
. “He was trying to make her one of whatever the hell he was?”

“Looks like it.”

“We’ve got to get her somewhere safe.”

“Calling Michael.”

Jonas disappeared behind him while Blane finished crawling into the limo. “Christiana?”

She made a noise that rumbled from the back of her throat, and the sound was anything

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but feminine. Still, he eased toward her. “It’s all right. It’s me.”

He stretched a hand out slowly to touch her. She snapped at his hand, almost catching it with her teeth before he jerked it back.

“What have they done?”

“There was an attack on the ball, too. Michael and the others are meeting us at a safe house.” Jonas hopped into the limo and barked off directions to the driver.

The limo sped off, rocking them around in the back seats.

Blane leaned toward her again. “Christiana?”

She snarled again. Her body jerked and moved so fast that it looked like it might break.

Her skin seemed to flow, to move, but stayed the same. It was like a slow version of the shift that agents went through when they went furry.

“Shit. She’s changing,” Jonas aimed his gun at her. “She’ll kill us in the car, Blane.”

“No. I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

Blane stared at him for a long moment that seemed too take forever. Jonas would kill her, and he would kill him. Or at least he’d try.

Jonas jerked the gun up and sighed. “Try to use the
vincolo
. If your mind is strong enough to move things, you might be able use the link to pull her around.”

Blane took a long breath and tried to focus on that part of him brought to life by their bond. Even with her writhing and changing on the floor in front of him, he couldn’t help but feel that same adoration for her. She was his love.

Her jerking slowed, and she began to whimper.

“We’re taking you somewhere safe. Did he inject that into you?” Jonas asked.

She slapped twice at her neck, where a drop of blood had dried.

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“Fuck,” he whispered. “He was an agent.”

She screamed again and rolled onto her side. The strength of focus had moved off her when he thought to speak. Only with his full attention on her would she have the ability to resist it. Could he hold on that long?

He pulled at that bond between them. Blane hovered as close to her as he could get, then grabbed her hand. It was scorching, but he didn’t let go. “
Compagna
,” he whispered. “Don’t let this take you.”

“It—hurts!”

“Prepare for them not to let her in. She may be too dangerous.”

“I’m not leaving her alone.”

“I know. We won’t leave you alone either.” Jonas let out a long sigh. “Maybe Elena can help.”

He didn’t answer, just watched and tried to concentrate on that part of their bond that kept Christiana from ripping his arm off. Her face had settled back into its normal structure, but the hands were still too long. He almost hated to see what the rest of her looked like. If she was an agent, there was no hope of the life they’d planned.

But he couldn’t think of that now.

* * * *

“Get her out of the car,” Khalil barked, motioning to two male vampires who looked like security in black tactical gear.

“No. Don’t touch her,” Blane said. “I’ll do it.” He carefully slid Christiana into his arms, her skin almost burning his as he stepped out of the back of the limo and onto the sidewalk outside the airport hangar. “Where should I put her?”

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“On the plane.”

He glared at Khalil. “If she completely changes, she’ll rip it apart.”

“We’re going to drug her. If she does change, it will be in America, where she has a chance. If she stays here, I will have no choice.”

The words were casual, but he knew what they meant. If it went badly, he didn’t want to kill her, but the others would demand it. Khalil was giving her a chance to escape.

Blane climbed the jet’s steps.

Jonas went ahead of him to open the doors. “Put her in the bedroom. At least she’ll be at the rear.”

Blane glared.

“Gotta look out for my
compagna
, Blane.”

He understood, but he didn’t like it. He turned sideways and scooted through the doorway as she began to groan again. She was almost childlike. If there was anything he could do to stop this, he would.