Rogan’s fated mate.

  And if his heart has followed his soul, if he loves her now and has forsaken me…

  He’ll never forgive me.

  47

  He won’t forgive me, but will he fight me?

  Will he risk the life of his child inside me?

  The question looms over the quiet darkness, heavy as the weight in my womb. Will he brandish a weapon against the mother of his child to protect Eris? And if he does, will I be able to strike him down?

  Strike down the father of my child, who I still love?

  I shudder at the thought, rolling over onto my side, curling into a ball around my child. The idea of hurting Rogan is unbearable.

  I love him.

  My attraction to him was founded in my father’s manipulation, but I grew to love him, and I love him now.

  And I believe he loves me.

  In the wolf world, though, a fated mating trumps love.

  So while hurting Rogan is unbearable to me, the notion of letting Eris harm my child is even more so. My heart aches with the conflict.

  With a sigh, I force myself to push aside thoughts of Rogan and Eris and concentrate on the baby. It’s not just about me anymore, not just about Rogan. It’s about this small life developing within me.

  Perhaps Alara is right. Perhaps my child does carry power. According to my father, this child was never meant to be. According to Alara, my child must be.

  I don’t know who to believe anymore.

  It’s in these thoughts that I finally drift off to sleep.

  I jerk upward in bed.

  Something…

  I don’t know what, but something awakened me.

  I sit very still, trying to calm my racing heart. The moon shines in through the cracks of the closed blinds. I listen, willing my acute sense of hearing to expand beyond the confines of my room, to penetrate the darkened hallway of my apartment building.

  A rustle.

  Then silence again.

  I rise, still wearing the clothes I wore while training with Alara. I was too exhausted to disrobe and shower before I lay down. I force myself to take a deep breath, to steady my racing heartbeat. The child inside me picks up on my tension and stirs.

  I gasp.

  My child. His first movement. More than the emotional flutter I felt before. I shouldn’t be far enough along to feel it yet, but I do. I place a protective hand over my unborn baby.

  The sound comes again, louder this time. A faint whispering noise followed by a soft thud. My heart leaps into my throat as I step out of my bedroom, making sure not to let my feet sound against the hard wooden floor.

  “Alara?” I eke out.

  But she’s nowhere to be found.

  A third sound now—a small metallic clink that echoes eerily through the quiet apartment.

  I edge toward the door and open it a crack, peering out into the hallway veiled in shadows. The echoing silence holds a sense of foreboding that convinces me to step back.

  I freeze at another sound. It’s not a thud or a clink, but a murmur of voices—low and indistinct. They’re coming from the stairwell. I strain to recognize them, but I can’t.

  The child moves inside me once more, matching the nervous quivering in my own stomach. I take one last glance into the hallway before retreating into my apartment, locking the deadbolt, and walking to my bedroom. The baby moves again, the tiny sensation more pronounced this time. As if he’s reassuring me, comforting me in his own little way.

  The voices grow louder, and I can hear footsteps. The anticipation and unknown danger make my skin prickle. My heart pounds an uneven rhythm against my ribs as I swallow back fear.

  I am ready.

  I am prepared.

  But this time it’s no phantom conjured by Alara who’s coming for me.

  This is real.

  48

  A shiver of icy dread slips down my spine, as if the Chicago wind has entered my bedroom.

  What is next for me? For my child?

  Will I have to face Eris? Or Rogan? Or worse yet, both?

  Rogan would never harm me. I may not be his fated mate as he once thought, but he loves me.

  And I carry his child.

  Eris, on the other hand, is an unknown. I don’t know what she’s capable of⁠—

  Except that I do.

  She cut out the hearts of two dead vampires.

  And she’d probably love to cut mine out if given the chance. I’m the woman carrying the child of her mate.

  I clutch my belly in a protective gesture, the life inside me fluttering again. The energy I feel from this small being is a comfort in the encompassing darkness.

  I jerk at a knock on the door. It’s not harsh, but low and unassuming as if its goal is to notify rather than alert. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze as I walk from my bedroom and press myself against the wall next to the doorway. The edges of panic gnaw at me.

  The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

  “Open up, princess.”

  That voice. The voice that soothes me, makes me whole.

  Rogan. It’s Rogan.

  Relief and terror intertwine inside. I don’t move for a moment, unsure if opening the door will bring salvation or doom. For all I know, he’s already bound himself to Eris and he’s come to…

  To what?

  To end me?

  No. To do that would mean ending our child as well. Rogan would never harm him.

  “Please,” he adds after a moment of silence, his voice strained as if he’s been running or fighting.

  Please?

  Rogan hardly ever says please.

  My thoughts scatter as I unlock the deadbolt with trembling hands. When I finally swing the door open, Rogan stands, his hair disheveled, his eyes weary yet alert. A cut is slashed across his cheek. He looks as though he has been running or fighting. Perhaps both.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice no more than a whisper.

  He nods, steps into the apartment, and carefully closes the door behind him. There’s tension in his every movement as he scans the room.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice heavy with something I can’t quite define. Fear? Desperation?

  I hesitate but eventually nod. My heart drums along with his.

  That resounding beat that pulses his delicious blood through his arteries…

  My fangs snap down.

  But I hold myself in check. I practice what Alara taught me. I have no physical need for Rogan’s blood, and neither does my child. I breathe in, out, in again.

  Rogan follows me into the living area, where we seat ourselves on opposite ends of my small couch. I wrap my arms around my stomach protectively while he leans forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together.

  He meets my gaze. His green eyes are lit by a flicker of intense emotion that makes my breath hitch in my throat. Silence stretches between us for several moments as the city hums with life outside.

  “Hannah…” His voice is husky, laced with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Eris knows.”

  Fear sweeps over me. I swallow hard, bracing myself for the worst. “Knows what?”

  “She knows about us. About the baby.”

  None of this surprises me. I assumed he would tell her.

  “I… I can’t explain, princess, how I’m drawn to her. It’s like it was with you at first, but I…” He stops.

  The look on his face is pure torment. I ache to go to him, kiss him, whisper reassurance in his ear.

  But that is no longer my place.

  I wait for him to continue. A moment. Two. Three. Until⁠—

  “For the love of God, Rogan, what?”

  “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t mate with her.”

  Sheer happiness overtakes me, and for a moment the fear, the doubt, the pain—everything else—just fades. I open my mouth to speak, but he gestures me to stay quiet.

  “Please, let me finish.” He shakes his head, runs his hand over his face.

  “You can finish later,” I say. “Your cut… You need medical help. I have supplies, and I’m trained to⁠—”

  “Stop it!” he roars. “Just stop it now, princess. Do you have any idea what it cost me to come here? To come to you? How much my body wants to be with her?”

  Something in me snaps at those words, and I lunge at him, sinking my fangs into the soft flesh of his neck.

  49

  This isn’t just about blood lust. This is about claiming him, marking him mine against the primal pull Eris represents.

  His blood explodes in my mouth, warm and spicy. The dark nectar I’ve come to crave more than air.

  Rogan stills underneath me, his gasp of surprise echoing in the silent room. I know he’s hurting, but I need him to understand. This is about me too. About our child. About our needs.

  He can’t just come here and expect me not to react when he talks about another woman. Especially not when that woman is Eris. His blood slides over my tongue and down my throat, and I swallow, letting it coat everything inside me, letting it infuse me with the strength I need.

  Alara may have shown me that I don’t have a physical need for it. But damn…I sure as hell love it.

  Once I’ve taken a good amount, I withdraw my fangs and look at him. His green eyes are wide, mouth slightly open, a mix of shock and something else playing across his face. Understanding? Anger?

  I lick the small wound closed.

  He cups both my cheeks. “I’ve missed you, princess.”

  “You say that after I take your blood?”

  “I’ve missed…” He runs his hands through his hair. “It surprises the hell out of me. I’ve become accustomed to feeding you. Maybe I need it as much as you do.”

  I roll my eyes. “I seriously doubt that.”

  His irises swirl. “Never doubt me.”

  “Would you let me take care of that cut now? Please?”

  I look around, puzzled. Where did Alara go? I thought she was staying with me. She made me tea, for God’s sake. Told me my father would want her here.

  “Later, princess,” he says. He runs a hand down his face, looking utterly worn. “Right now, I need⁠—”

  I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. Even though I’ve just fed, his musky lupine scent washes over me like a tidal wave.

  “You need?” I ask. “What do you need?”

  “You.”

  All the air leaves my lungs at once, as if he’s struck me. Sex? He wants sex now?

  “Rogan…”

  “No.” He shakes his head and drops his hands, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Let me finish, Hannah.”

  I draw in a breath as I nod.

  “I told Eris everything,” he says again, this time in a softer voice. “About us. About our child.”

  “And what did she say?” I whisper.

  “She was furious, of course.” He tightens his grip on my fingers, his knuckles white against his dirty skin. “She threatened the child, Hannah.”

  Though I already knew all this from Alara, a sickening dread clutches at my heart anyway.

  “She’s powerful enough to do it,” Rogan continues, “and she’s vindictive as hell.”

  “So you came here to warn me,” I say.

  “Yes. I couldn’t risk anything happening to either of you.”

  I don’t reply at first. This isn’t news to me, but Rogan doesn’t know of my dealings with Alara.

  Silence stretches between us. The small life movement inside me feels more vulnerable than ever, a tiny thing against the tempest of the world. The desire—no, the urge—to protect him becomes stronger than ever.

  If I have to kill Eris?

  I fucking will.

  “Where is she?” I grit out.

  Rogan doesn’t answer, and it doesn’t matter. I already know what has to happen. I must protect my child no matter what. Not only as a mother, but as a vampire princess. Alara prophesied that this child was destined for something great.

  He needs to be born.

  And he needs to live.

  I already know my destiny. It’s not to kill my stepfather, the demon king, as the demons tried to convince Rogan and me.

  It’s to kill Eris.

  This is a she-wolf that cut out the hearts of two dead vampires. For what?

  “Rogan,” I say, “did you ask her about the vampires’ hearts?”

  “I didn’t get a chance. When I refused to mate with her, she ran off.”

  “My God…” I rub my forehead.

  “Princess…” His voice is low, nearly a growl.

  “Yes?”

  “I need you. I need you now.”

  50

  I raise my gaze to meet his. His eyes—those beautiful emerald eyes—burn with intensity. The passion crackles between us like a high voltage current. With a shaky breath, I release his hand and reach for the raw wound slashed across his cheek.

  “Princess…” he murmurs again, softer this time.

  “Yes?” I brush my fingers over the tender skin. I feel his pulse against my fingertips, steady yet frantic. It matches my own.

  He pulls me closer until our bodies are pressed together. I let out a sigh, leaning into him as our hearts beat in sync.

  “I need you too,” I whisper before pressing my lips to his.

  He tightens his grip around me as he deepens the kiss. I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling him closer and losing myself in the overpowering taste of him—the wildness, the need, the sheer ache.

  Every moment with Rogan is an intoxicating mix of danger and desire. The taste of his blood still lingers on my tongue, a potent reminder of his power over me. I pull back slightly and search his gaze.

  “Let me help you with your wound,” I say again. “You know I’m qualified, and for once, I have the necessary items since we’re here at my place.”

  “Princess,” he murmurs, “you’ve already healed me.”

  My touch.

  He once told me that my touch healed him better than anything else.

  His words send shivers down my spine, and when I look closer at the wound, I see he’s right. It’s healing. Already it looks less severe than it did only moments earlier.

  “I said I need you, princess,” he growls. “And I believe I said ‘now.’”

  I push him gently onto my couch and straddle his waist.

  I lean down and brush my lips against the raw wound, grazing my teeth lightly over the torn flesh.

  Ah… The remnants of blood, that magic nectar. His pulse quickens under my touch.

  “Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, gripping my waist. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “And you’re not?” I bring my gaze back to meet his. “I’ve been nothing but a blazing inferno since I met you, Rogan.”

  He looks at me. Really looks at me, as if he’s gazing straight into my soul. “I’m deadly serious, Hannah.”

  The words are barely a whisper against the silence.

  “You’re my anchor, my light, my everything. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

  “So you’ve chosen me over Eris?” I ask.

  “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t love her, princess. I love you. I love our child.”

  “But she’s your⁠—”

  “My mate, yes. And the pull is strong. It’s nature guiding me to her. But I’ve found something stronger than nature, Hannah.”

  I swallow as I trail my finger over his full lower lip. “And what is that, Rogan?”

  “Love. Love is stronger than nature. My body wanted Eris, Hannah. I can’t even describe the pull. My cock was hard, and⁠—”

  I place my fingers over his lips. “Please, Rogan. I don’t want to hear how much your cock wanted her.”

  “But how else will you understand?” His eyes are full of torment. “The pull. The urge. But I knew, Hannah. I knew if I gave in, you and I would be over forever. And I couldn’t face that. I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I won’t lose you.”

  “We won’t lose each other,” I reply with a conviction that surprises even me. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Promise me,” he says. “Promise me that we won’t lose each other.”

  “I promise,” I reply without hesitation.

  And though I have no idea how we’ll get through everything—my father, my stepfather, Eris—I know we will.

  We must.

  I clamp my mouth to his.

  51

  The kiss is fierce, desperate. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, an unspoken need that ravages both of us. I pull him closer, savoring the comfort his physical presence brings.

  “Princess,” he growls.

  The vibration of his voice against my lips sends electricity through me. I devour him with my lips until I have to break away and gasp for air.

  But we stay close, our foreheads touching, as we both try to catch our breaths.

  “Rogan,” I pant out. “We’ll do this. We’ll figure it all out. I meant it when I promised.”

  He cups my cheek, his gaze full of longing. “I know we will, Hannah. But right now I need to fuck you. Take off those clothes.” His voice goes raspy as his irises swirl with that familiar passion and wildness. “Strip. Now.”

  “Are you ordering me around, Rogan?” I challenge, trying to suppress the anticipation in my stomach. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done so, but we’re in a different situation now.

  His gaze darkens. “Yes, princess. You’d best obey or I’ll rip them off.”

  I know only too well that he’s not joking.

  I’m glad to be rid of the garments I wore while training with Alara. A moment later, everything is piled on the floor, and I stand naked in front of my wolf.

  My nipples are already hard and needy, my pussy throbbing and ready.

  Rogan rises, unsnaps and unzips his jeans, and frees his massive cock.

  I can’t help myself. I’ve seen it many times before, but I gawk at its beauty, at its magnificence. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it—him—again.

 

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