“But possible,” I counter, a spark of hope lighting up my chest. “If she killed the vampires out of revenge, she would be punished and sold to the highest bidder for her sins. She would have no say in her future. But if Dafoe lost control of a fledgling, then his clan was weak for not being able to contain her. It wouldn’t be her fault, and she can’t be held responsible for her actions. She would have a chance at a different future.”
“I vote for the second option,” Jolie chimes in, but the others act like they don’t hear her.
Everyone turns toward Stanton.
Only his answer truly matters.
“It’s…possible,” he finally admits, then rubs his hand along his jaw. “I’ve only witnessed two females turned successfully. It took a lot of time and blood, and it was brutal.”
“That sounds about right.” Jolie huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, as if trying to hold herself together.
“No one knows that Jolie is here,” Tobias whispers under his breath, and it almost sounds like a prayer. “After we report what happened to the vampire families, she will be safe.”
Stanton snorts at the absurdity. “She will be anything but safe. An unknown female vampire? It will cause an uproar. They will come for her.”
“Not if she is the lone survivor of the Dafoe bloodline,” Castle remarks casually, but I’m not fooled by his bland tone. “It would make her the new master.”
“You’re a fucking genius.” Tobias reaches for the cage door, but Stanton uses his vampire speed and flashes in front of him before he can even touch the glass.
“And if we’re wrong?” Stanton crosses his arms, his body relaxed, but his posture is a lie. The man never relaxes. It’s what has kept him alive for so long.
“I. Don’t. Care.” Tobias growls the words, and his blue eyes flash in warning.
I clear my throat before the two of them can tear into each other. “Stanton, he’s right—we don’t have much time. Are you really willing to throw her to the wolves?” I wince, shooting an apologetic look at Castle and Tobias. “You know what will happen if you turn her over to them—they’ll fight for possession of her. Only chaos and death will follow. Whoever finishes turning her will claim ownership of her…if she even survives.”
“I will not be claimed like some dog from a pound, tied to another vampire who thinks to control me. I’ll kill anyone who tries.” Jolie emerges from the back of her cell like a wraith, vengeance wrapping around her like a dark cloak. Her brown eyes shimmer with the vow, and her gaze flits toward the door, like she’s thinking of making a break for it at the first opportunity.
“Please…don’t run.” I hold up my hand toward her, mentally cursing when I see a hardness enter her eyes.
She’s going to make a run for it.
I can feel it in my bones.
Unless I can convince her otherwise.
I make one more desperate attempt to reach her. “What if we help you instead?”
Everyone freezes at my offer, then an almost manic peel of laughter escapes her beautiful lips. “I don’t need your help. I think I’ve proved that I can take care of myself.”
She wiggles her fingers at me almost flirtatiously, her black claws flashing in silent warning. When she bares her fangs next, my cock hardens in one second flat. I have so little blood in my system that it should’ve been impossible, but I have a feeling a lot of things that should be impossible are no longer so with Jolie.
“Maybe…but until your transition is complete, you have a dangerous weakness.” Ignoring the men—they aren’t important right now—I head toward the small fridge that contains bags of our blood to be used in case of emergencies. I grab one bag labeled with my name, wanting her to crave the taste of me, then I impulsively grab a bag from Castle’s stash.
I rip off the labels, then hurry toward her cell. Determined not to let the others stop me, I use a burst of speed and slip past them. I punch in a code to bypass the security on the door, then edge into her cell.
Instead of attacking, Jolie rears back and cowers against the wall.
She swallows hard, her throat almost convulsing, and I know my nearness has triggered her thirst. “Drink.”
I toss both bags onto her bunk, then take a step back.
It hurts to see her cowering from me.
A grimace contorts her features for a second as she gazes at the bags, like she can still taste the combination of plastic, human blood, and bile. She peers at me for a moment longer, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips as she debates her options, then she lunges for the bags.
Starvation wins out.
Her fangs puncture the first bag with a slight pop, her throat moving with her first tentative swallow. The reaction is almost immediate—her eyes darken, and she growls slightly, her hands tightening on the bag like she fears I’m going to take it from her.
