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I’m already nodding. Danger, spice, and everything nice. Just what a girl needs on her first trip to Vegas. Kian shakes his head, but I ignore it. We’re doing this. Well, I am. With or without him. My mother kept me so isolated. And… somehow, someone suppressed my power. It’s only natural for me to assume it was her.

I don’t know how, though. Or when.

Or why.

So this is my rebellion—and no one is going to stop me from taking this night for myself.

Chapter 35

Kian

The absence of our new guide’s heartbeat is unsettling. The only vampire I’ve met before was someone my father knew, and I was too focused on other things to think about his still heart.

Beaumont Sanders leads us to the elevators with inhuman grace, reminding me with every step that he’s a killer. Vampires have an edge on wolf shifters in speed. He could turn and snap Astra’s neck before I’d be able to stop him. I put myself between them, ignoring her huff of indignation. Better upset than dead.

Rules set in place by our wolf and vampire ancestors dictate a delicate truce. We interact as infrequently as possible, and we never reveal our powers. Wolf shifters are secretive, yes, but no more secretive than vampires. It’s always been drilled into me that however closely I guard my own mind, they’ve fortified theirs better.

I’ve heard of Beaumont Sanders before. He’s older than my father, even though he looks to be about my age. I’m fairly certain he took over his clan in a bloody war fifty years ago, and that’s how news of his name made it to us in Colorado.

Astra’s arm brushes mine. She clearly isn’t getting my unspoken stay behind me order, and I glance down at her.

She seems too fragile in a place like this. We’re surrounded by bloodsuckers—I can feel the sleepless death that keeps them immortal clinging to their skin like a coat of armor. It’s a curious sensation, cold and buzzing. It lingers just under the edge of my conscience. I didn’t notice it when we first entered the city, or his particular resort. There was too much noise, too many humans.

When I was a teenager, my father summoned me to the same clearing where he held the witch. That vampire, though, seemed only there to teach me a lesson. He was composed, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was quiet, appraising. And when my father told me to attack him, I got my ass handed to me.

He was just another tool along my path to become alpha. My father carved me out of stone—but I still had to be strong enough to withstand the tide.

I shake off those lingering memories. The fear that stuck in my nostrils, the way his fangs slid into my skin. Punishment for my slow actions.

It was necessary.

Astra’s hand slips into mine when the elevator jolts down. The lights flicker, and I glance sideways at our bloodsucking guide. He seems unbothered. Even when the elevator picks up speed, dropping so fast that Astra’s hair lifts. The weightlessness turns my stomach, and I squeeze her fingers.

“What is this?” I growl.

Beau smirks. “Scared?”

Fucker.

The lights go out in the elevator. Astra yelps, and I push her swiftly behind me. The need to protect her rises through me, and my wolf is right there with me. She clutches the back of my shirt.

We slam to a halt, and dimmer lights come on. My wolf wants to burst free, but I grit my teeth and hold it back. Shifting in an elevator would be sure to harm Astra, not protect her.

“Be calm, dog,” the vampire says. “We’ve arrived.”

He seems no worse for the wear. Not a hair out of place. The elevator doors chime.

“We’re below the casino,” Astra whispers, pointing to the digital counter above the rows of floor buttons.

—16.

Negative fucking sixteen?

The elevator doors slide open and admit us out into… a street.

It’s nighttime here. We’re at the top of a winding cobblestone path that slopes downhill, toward the main street of a small town. That’s how it appears, anyway. It doesn’t make logical sense.

My brows furrow, and I almost dig in my heels. Too late, Astra has moved past me, and she and the vampire step out. I follow quickly, and the elevator doors close behind us. I glance back and stop in my tracks.