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He clapped his hand against the book. It was one of the rare moments he seemed genuinely happy lately, and though I couldn’t find the will to reciprocate his joy, I could at least offer him my company.

The morning had been off to a rough start, but I was alone in the workshop. It was a comfort focusing all my energy on potions rather than everything else. Until the rush of dizziness and nausea overtook me, forcing me to step back from the lab bench and take a few deep breaths.

When it passed, I gathered my composure and picked up the metal tongs. I grasped the vial of dragonwort—used for pain relief, sleep, and digestive issues—and held it over a burning candle. When the liquid began to bubble, I removed it from the heat and added it to the main potion. Steam wafted from the beaker, but no volatile reaction took place.

Good.

I set it aside and pulled the codex closer to me. I studied the symbols and the notes I’d scribbled in the margins of the book, but my vision swirled, sweat rising on the back of my neck. That familiar heat was coming over me again. I would have to take another injection sooner than I usually did.

My world split, my hands briefly turning into claws before I forced myself to be present in my vampire body. I breathed through it, fighting my body’s attempt to shift. A hot flush surged through me, my heart racing while flashes of sharp teeth, massive paws, and shaggy fur infiltrated my mind as ice filled my veins. I staggered back as I fought the memories, gritting my teeth against the searing pain that spread anew.

It took me much longer than it should’ve to rein my emotions back in. When my breathing steadied, I took another deep breath. I just needed to start this last experimental potion before I could relax in my office. But as I picked up an empty beaker, pain sliced through my bones, and my hands cramped and contorted.

The glass fell and shattered the very moment the door flew open with a bang.

Sylvan rushed in, eyes wide as he stared right at me.

17

WHAT’S IN THE SYRINGE?

SYLVAN

It was strange being back in Aethermore just days later. I was sure Aura would be thrilled to see me again. Somehow the thought of her anger only made me grin. She was a force to be reckoned with for sure.

The pack wasn’t happy with me leaving again so soon. There’d been a mild threat from Evander not to take long, while Caleb stormed out muttering something about me being a wishy-washy bastard. But I’d explained to them I was going in search of answers—to help stop Lobofebris from being a threat to our kind. They’d reluctantly agreed to let me go, but I wasn’t sure they’d be so obliging another time.

Aura wasn’t in her office, so I checked the next place I figured she would be. With the books I’d borrowed tucked under my arm, I lifted my fist to the door of the alchemy workshop. I needed to keep my guard up. Aura was quick, that much I knew. The last time I thought sneaking up on her gave me an advantage … Well, she paralyzed me.

Even through the thick oak door, I could hear her heart thundering. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage or what, but a shattering sound tore through the silence followed by a muffled cry. Her heart pounded more as I turned the doorknob. Locked. Shit. I dropped the books and rammed my shoulder against the door once, twice, until it flew open and banged against the wall inside the workshop.

Aura was standing in front of the farthest workbench, hunched over with an arm around her middle. “Nygaard?” I called out.

She forced herself upright, craning her head in my direction. But an agonized groan forced its way through her teeth, and she folded over on herself again. “Get out,” she groaned.

“Are you⁠—”

“I said get out!” Her voice had gone shrill, desperation and fear pulsing from her before a terrifying wave of anger forced me back a step. She let out a snarl, straightening, one eye glowing bright yellow, the other red.

“What the f—” I nearly tripped over my feet as my heart leapt into my throat. I stepped back and clung to the doorpost. The glowing eyes, the rage. I’d seen this before too many times. I fought against the images of Antoine, eyes glowing as he snapped at me over nothing. Aura snarled at me as if reflecting my memories. I held my hands up, knowing damn well if I ran, she would make chase. Unless I was mistaken. I had to be mistaken … right? “Aura?” I called.

A whimper cut through another snarl. Her back hunched, both hands wrapping around her stomach. My body begged me to move toward her, to help her, but my brain screamed the logic I needed to remember. I didn’t dare approach her.

This time, I spoke with the authority I hated to use. “Aura, look at me.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, that one eye still glowing, vampire fangs accompanying a row of jagged teeth. Then, slowly, recognition bled into her face. The glow in her eyes retreated, and her lips quivered as the jagged teeth retracted. She looked like an ordinary vampire again, though the tiniest sound of despair came from her as she retreated until her back made contact, rattling the contents of a cabinet behind her.

She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, then something like disgust flickered in her eyes, and she fumbled at her belt to procure a handkerchief to wipe the drool from her chin.

“What the hells did I just see?” I asked.

Her fear circulated the room. I wanted to ease the door shut, but I didn’t want her to feel cornered. That would only make things worse.

“Aura?”

She straightened, but pain tightened her features, and she inhaled sharply. An eye glowed again, flickering as she bit back a growl. Then she was stumbling over to the bench, clawing at a tray where an instrument lay. A syringe.

Something like panic fluttered in my chest. Her state would make trying to inject herself dangerous.