Page 94 of Logan’s Acadian Wolves

“Please listen,” Léopold pleaded. “Think about how vampires are created. In the final moments of our deaths, when the soul teeters between the planes of both the living and the dead, one can be snatched from death’s grip, born anew. Wynter, she rests in the thin veil that separates us from the other side. You must let me try.”

Logan considered Devereoux’s explanation. He’d never in his long life heard of a vampire giving their gift to a wolf. He knew that when they created their own, the child belonged to the sire. Wynter would never want to belong to any other man but him. After the scene in the club, Léopold was far from her favorite person. How would she feel about accepting his blood into her body, taking him on as her sire? Yet, selfishly, Logan carefully weighed the offer. He loved Wynter so much; needed his mate alive. How far would he go to save her?

“Will she be vampire?” Logan asked.

“I cannot say. I won’t lie to you, this is generally the outcome, but like I said, I’m not certain. Is she truly wolf? Is she still at all human? Complicated questions, no?”

“She belongs to me.”

“As her potential sire, I fully and altogether release her to your care, Alpha. I do not wish to command her mind. I swear it.”

Unable to resist the possibility of her salvation, Logan conceded. “Do it,” he whispered.

What choice did he have? If she returned as vampire, he’d love her as much as when she’d been wolf. It was her soul that he loved, no matter her being.

Léopold breathed a sigh of relief as the Alpha capitulated to his suggestion. In truth, in all his years, he’d never converted a wolf. He was unsure about how his blood would affect her, but they had to try. He stripped off his jacket and rolled his sleeve. Positioning himself next to Logan, he bit into his wrist, and offered it to the Alpha. Logan took Léopold’s wrist and pressed it to Wynter’s mouth.

The blood trickled over Wynter’s face. Listless, she wasn’t swallowing.

“Command her,” Léopold told him urgently.

“I can’t feel her…she’s gone,” Logan insisted.

“It’s the only way. I cannot do it.”

Logan meditated, searching his mind for his mate. The tendrils of his power discharged, seeking Wynter. He laughed as a jolt of recognition hit him. She was there, here or on the other side, he couldn’t tell. Her spirit danced in the wind.

“Wyn, sweetheart,” he spoke lovingly. “I need you to listen to me. Please, please come back to me. Hear me and drink.”

In her mind, Wynter floated somewhere lovely and peaceful. But she was alone. The familiar voice sang to her heart, willing her like a lure. Logan? Where was he? The mist caressed her skin as she glided along her journey. But the voice called to her again. Drink? Drink what? No, this place was warm and comforting. Like a mother’s womb, she contentedly existed. Now, Wynter. Logan. Logan, her mate. Memories of his scent and love flooded her mind. Back to Logan, she needed to find him. Drink.

The taste of power slid down her throat, setting off a firing of synapses. Life. Love. Her mate. So far but so close, just within reach. A wisp of hope flickered and she extended her hand to capture it. A little more and she’d awake to him. A river of sanguine vitality permeated her cells, arousing her soul back to Earth.

Astonished, Logan felt his heart squeeze in relief as he watched his mate flare to life, her pale lips suctioning at the wrist he held. The strained look on Devereoux’s face told him that he suffered silently. But Logan wondered if the vampire struggled to conceal pain or lust. Léopold Devereoux, her dark savior, was lethal yet benevolent. As their eyes met, a respectful understanding passed between the two men. He’d forever owe the vampire; a debt he’d gladly repay.

“Enough,” Léopold grunted.

Logan slid a finger in between her mouth and Léopold’s wrist, breaking the seal. Wynter gasped for air, and then choked, blood spilling from her lips. Her eyes flew open; she was shaking as if she were a newborn babe. She cried, a mixture of fear and happiness spinning through her mind as she glanced from Léopold to Logan. The realization that she’d almost died slammed into her.

“Logan,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart.” Logan cradled her into his arms so that her head rested against his shoulder. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’m not dead?” she asked with a small smile.

“No, you’re not. You’re very much alive, thanks to Devereoux.”

“Léopold,” the vampire corrected. “I do believe we all should be on a first name basis, no?”

“Léopold,” Logan agreed with a smile. He’d never been so grateful to another person in his life, vampire or not.

Wynter tried to process what Logan had just told her. Léopold had saved her life. She struggled to comprehend it. She had died. His blood. Drink. Logan had told her to drink. She drank Léopold’s blood? Connecting the proverbial dots, Wynter sat up, pushing out of Logan’s arms.

“Am I a…? No, I couldn’t be a…?” She glanced from Logan to Léopold then to Dimitri.

Logan cupped her cheek bringing her gaze to his again. He sniffed. “You still scent wolf, so that’s a good sign. We don’t know how it could affect you, but you’re alive and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Oh God, Logan. I love you so much.” Wynter gently pressed her lips to his. Her forehead fell against his as she spoke to him. “I was so scared. I’m sorry for going on that boat.”