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A truly elite level of what-the-fuck shenanigans.

‘Eira,’ Malachi says, and this time there is no restraint left in him. ‘Open. The. Door.’

Apparently, they’re not obeying their sire this time.

Fuck.

I laugh. It sounds deranged. ‘Sure,’ I yell back. ‘Let me just ask the door nicely.’

‘What did you do to him?’

Yeah, I knew the accusation was coming. Still, it’s like a sucker punch because I don’t have a clean answer.

I don’t have any answer that won’t get me killed, caged, worshipped, drained, or turned into the world’s most inconvenient supernatural medical device.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ I snap, pushing at Valentin again. ‘He bit me. Your boss is the one who decided my neck looked like breakfast.’

A snarl vibrates through the door. ‘Hunter. Is he conscious?’ Aaron asks.

‘Umm… kinda. Maybe.’

A pause. I can almost hear the calculation forming outside. ‘Is he breathing?’

I stifle another laugh and choose not to point out the obvious. Instead I look down at Valentin.

His face is turned partly into my shoulder, black hair spilling across his brow, lashes lowered now, mouth faintly parted. Blood stains his lower lip. His chest rises once, shallowly, then holds.

My own chest goes tight. ‘Sometimes,’ I say, and hate the way my voice catches.

‘He’s going into stasis,’ Aaron says.

Malachi’s reply is low and lethal. ‘No. He does not enter stasis.’

‘Well, he’s making a damn good impression of it,’ I shout. ‘So maybe postpone the vampire denial summit and tell me what to do.’

Valentin’s mark pulses again.

Pain flickers under my palm where my hand is still pressed to my throat. The bite is bleeding less now, thank every dubious god listening, but the skin feels too alive, too connected to him. Every beat of my heart seems to tug some answering flare from his mark.

I manage to free one arm and shove at his shoulder again.

‘Come on,’ I whisper. ‘You don’t get to threaten me, seduce me, eat me out like the apocalypse is your personal hobby, bite me, then pass out. That is poor form, even for you.’

His eyelids flicker and my breath catches. ‘Valentin?’

His hand moves but it’s not towards me. Towards the door.

The room darkens again as another silent command rolls out of him, weaker this time but edged with enough power to make the walls tremble.

Stay. Out.

Outside, something hits the door hard enough to crack stone.

‘No!’ Malachi roars. ‘Sire. You have to let us in!’

Then Valentin’s body goes slack. The suddenness of it does something awful to me.

My panic changes shape, stops being frantic and becomes cold, clean, vicious. I know this state. This is survival arriving with a knife and a clipboard.