Page 119 of Dhampira

As I reached for the balcony door’s handle, a noise from outside stopped me. Hesitating, I stared through the gap. Maybe Vander was meeting with Timmon again. Swallowing, I pulled the door wider and stepped onto the balcony. Frosty air burned my nose as I moved outside and looked over the maze.

Some of the water shooting from the merman’s pursed lips had turned to vapor in the cold, making it look like he puffed smoke into the air.

Sezat.

How long ago had Rasimir petrified him? Was the vor irreversible after a certain point? I should have asked Lorcan and Vander. Mama would have scolded me for being a poor student.

The maze faded, and the forest took its place. Moonlight turned the towering pines a pale silver. The mountains rose in the distance, their peaks capped with snow that appeared to kiss the stars. A sigh built in my chest as I gripped the railing. Nocta was such a beautiful place to hold so much ugliness.

A shadow swept across the moon, and my breath caught as an enormous winged figure plunged to the balcony. As I reeled backward, Lorcan sailed over the railing, a pair of glomarid wings flaring above his shoulders. A man with a mop of dark blond curls struggled under his arm.

I gasped, almost tripping over my skirts as I stumbled backward. Lorcan touched down, and the man twisted and kicked, his eyes blazing above the gag wrapped around the lower half of his face.

Yellow eyes—the same kind I’d seen every time I encountered a werewolf. He glowered at me, growls rumbling from his chest. An upturned nose made him appear younger than he probably was, although it was impossible to tell his true age. The sour stench of sweat rolled off him, the scent mixed with earth and a faint whiff of wet fur.

Lorcan folded his wings with a snap. His chest was bare, and his muscles flexed as he wrestled the werewolf off the balcony and into the bedchamber.

“Get the doors,” he said. As I hurried to obey, a whisper of sound made me spin. My chamber door opened, and Vander slipped inside and pressed a finger to his lips.

Lorcan’s grunt swung my attention back to him. The werewolf fought harder, burying an elbow in Lorcan’s ribs. Lorcan’s fangs flashed as he tightened his grip on the smaller man.

“The doors, Corinthe,” he said, exasperation lacing his voice.

“Sorry,” I whispered, doing as he asked.

Lorcan pointed to the roses in the center of the table. “Uci.”

The blooms shriveled. Several blossoms fell from their stems, hit the table, and turned to dust.

The werewolf stilled, his citrine eyes widening above his gag.

Lorcan spoke in his ear. “That’s right, dog. Death is easier than you think. So stop fighting unless you wish for it.”

The man slumped, but his eyes continued to burn with anger.

Vander rushed forward, pulling feygeld and a dagger from his pockets. The blade flashed as he quickly dropped crystals in a wide circle around Lorcan and the werewolf. When he extended a hand toward me, I hurried to him and let him draw me over the boundary.

“Zid vedara,” Vander said, and the crystals glowed blue.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking from Vander to Lorcan. “You brought a werewolf into my room?”

The stranger’s gaze rested on me, threats swimming in his yellow irises. The gag stretched his mouth in an unnatural shape, and the cloth bit into his cheeks. Despite the distortion, he appeared attractive. Behind him, Lorcan folded his stolen wings more tightly, his muscles rippling under his skin. His leather trousers clung to his hips, and his hair was loose, dark brown strands spilling over one thick shoulder.

I yanked my stare away as heat crept into my cheeks.

Vander tucked the last of the feygeld in his pocket. “You said you wanted to speak to the wolves.” He waved a hand toward Lorcan’s captive. “This is our best chance of reaching someone who will listen.”

I glanced at the door. “Someone could hear us.”

One corner of Vander’s mouth quirked up. “Not through my ward, they won’t.”

Lorcan manhandled the werewolf forward another step. “This wolf serves Kristoff, alpha of the Greyskold Pack. Their numbers exceed two thousand. Kristoff has a great deal of influence over the other alphas, and he’s rumored to be wary of the witches’ promises. Supposedly, he’s also tired of burying wolves who die fighting for the covens.”

I inhaled deeply as I looked between Vander and Lorcan. They’d done what I suggested, bringing me a werewolf. And it was so very dangerous. If Rasimir caught them, not even their centuries of service were likely to save them.

An image of Rasimir’s gruesome, split-second transformation between politeness and rage flashed in my mind. No, Rasimir wouldn’t simply kill Vander and Lorcan if he discovered they’d done this. He would kill them in ways that made Duncan’s death look merciful.

“You brought me a werewolf,” I repeated, not quite sure I believed it.