1. Nic

Chapter 1

"What?" I stared at Leia, but there were no more words. Just… "What?"

She wanted to be turned. I wanted to turn her, but not like this. Not like fucking this.

Her eyes were lifeless as she looked at me…right through me. I still smelled of blood. So much blood. Too much blood, the iron scent seeming to roll from me in thick, cloying waves. Blood and death from the army of newly risen fledglings Francois had created.

But still I wanted to take my mate into my arms and hold her. Every instinct in me tugged toward her. I wanted to press her against me and breathe her in, but I just couldn't sully her with the stench and the gore of battle.

"Leia." I wanted her to look at me, to truly see me. Fuck, I wanted to turn her. I wanted her by my side, with me, forever.

But it couldn't be like this.

That moment could never be about a desperate desire for revenge—everything that consumed Leia's thoughts right now. It was supposed to come from love and yearning. It was supposed to be beautiful.

Leia wanted to surrender to ugliness. Whether she knew it or not, that was what she was doing, and we'd both resent it if I gave her what she thought she wanted right now.

As creeping cold filled me, I reached for her hand. She didn't move. Not away from me, not toward me. She just sat.

I glanced around at the worn soft furnishings of the shifter safehouse. This was a side of the alpha Conri I'd never expected, a classic Americana look of patchwork quilts and cross stitch samplers. I shook my head as I returned my attention to Leia.

There was no one else in the house with us. Aimée and that shifter woman had made themselves scarce. My nose twitched at the lingering scent of cookies.

"Are you hungry?" I asked Leia, but she continued to look right past me, a bleakness to her face I'd never seen. Her brown eyes were darker than usual and seemed hollow now that the initial fire of fury had receded.

I needed some of her fight back and for her to want to live with the same passion she'd always demonstrated. She'd been a warrior. The only human to ever have attracted me—the one meant for me. I'd loved her just as she was… and now she was different.

I was already mourning the Leia who was slipping away.

"Leia." I tried again. "You should eat and drink."

That got her attention.

"What?" She whipped her head so her eyes met mine, and finally they glowed like embers of anger lit them from within. "You think I care about eating right now?"

Her words were little more than a hiss, but I grabbed hold of that display of emotion.

I nodded. "You need to eat."

She laughed sharply. "To fuel this weak human body?"

I almost nodded again but I caught myself. Those words were a trap. "You're not weak."

"I couldn't save him." She whispered this time, the sentence not intended for me. "I've always saved him—always been there, been able to figure something out in the end. Why couldn't I save him this time?"

Her eyes went dead again, blank with grief, and my heart squeezed.

I touched her hand, brushing my thumb over her cold, clammy skin. "You've had a shock—" I started.

The laugh she interrupted me with bordered on hysterical.

"More than a shock," I amended as all my words deserted me.

There was nothing I could say or do to make this better for her. To take away some of the pain, no matter how badly I wanted to. She'd watched fucking Francois Ricard rip her father's throat out, had been close enough to smell the blood. I hadn't been human for a long time, and I couldn't imagine how she felt. The empathy I wanted to tap into had already left me.

She curled her fingers around my hand until her skin shone white in the pale shaft of moonlight still streaming through the window. "Turn me. If you turn me, I can fix it all."

She looked at me, but I shook my head.

"Please," she whispered, a desperate tone I'd never heard before entering her voice. "I need to make it all right again. It's gone wrong and it can't stay wrong. I need to… I need to fix it."

Her sad gaze met mine, although a small flicker of hope burned deep in her eyes.

"This can't be fixed, Leia." The words hurt as they ripped from me, their sharp edges slicing my throat. "Francois has done something that can't be fixed. His actions can never be undone."

I wasn't familiar with helplessness, but it gnawed inside my chest now, creating a hole there. There wasn't anything Leia could do to fix this, and there wasn't anything I could do, either.

"If you turn me," she ground out, "I can kill him if you turn me."

"It won't fix it." My voice was low as I insisted, making my point again. It hurt to repeat it, and from the way Leia flinched, it hurt to hear the words.

"I can kill him, though," she repeated. She stared over my shoulder as she spoke, quiet vehemence marking her words.

I shook my head. "No. I'll kill him. That's the very least I can do."

She didn't need Francois's blood on her hands, and I already had enough that one more final death being my responsibility wouldn't matter.

"Why won't you turn me? I know you want to." Her gaze became a little sly. "Think how much more fun we could have together if we were both vampires. I wouldn't be as…" She paused and her tongue touched her lower lip. "Breakable."

I stopped, caught between what I wanted and what I knew I had to do.

"I do want to turn you," I admitted, unashamed to want her to be mine always. Then I took a deep breath as I measured the rest of what I had to say. "But I can't. Not like this. Not for revenge."

"Why not for revenge? Seems as good a reason as any. And then I'm turned. You get what you want, I get what I want. It's simple."

Regret coursed through me as I shook my head, denying myself the thing I wanted most but protecting my bride as best I could. "It's not right. Not like this."

"At least tell me why." She sounded distracted again, like she was only half present, her brain already moving onto other possibilities, other avenues.

"So many reasons. But really only one that matters." I waited until she shifted her gaze to meet mine. "A true turning should only happen through love and a need to be together. Not revenge, or anger, or bloodshed."

Desperation tightened in coils around my ribs when I considered my need to be with Leia and keep her safe in the only way I knew how.

My goals hadn't changed. I had to turn her. But it couldn't be at her angry demand.

If I turned her now, it would always be tied to this anger and need for revenge, and those bad feelings would permeate every part of her.

"But I need…" She floundered, shrugging her shoulders and gesturing vaguely with her hands. "I need…this."

"No, Leia." I tried to be firm, and she lifted an eyebrow, her unvoiced question clear.

Why? Although she didn't speak it, the word echoed around my head. She wanted a better reason, even though I already gave her the best I had. But I'd try to explain it better, in a way that might get through to her.

"Vampires who are created out of hate or where bitterness and vengeance is a driving factor never function well in society."

Leia scoffed, and I changed the grip of our hands, curling her fingers into mine.

"You'd be little more than a…thrall." I swallowed as I thought of the creatures, hooked on blood and losing all trace of themselves, although I didn't think Leia knew what they were.

She shrugged. "Looks like I can be one or the other—a vampire or just enslaved to a vampire—then, right?"

Her barb pierced home, reminding me I'd essentially doomed her by not turning her already. Guilt weighed heavily on me.

"I'll get Francois," I said again. "I'll make him pay. If I turn you while you feel like this, all you'll want to do is kill and feed even once Francois is dead. That's not something we can risk." I couldn't lose her that way. I needed to bring her back her back to me, to turn her properly.

Losing her to bitterness would be like watching her die slowly in front of me, and I would be responsible for that death. I couldn't do it. I couldn't condemn her, and I couldn't watch. We just needed more time, a chance for her to heal a bit, and then we could do this safely. The right way, for the right reasons.

She nodded, but her face had shuttered again, and she'd disappeared inside herself.

I stood then leaned forward to pick her up, clasping her against my chest. She curled into the right shape, but didn't relax, tension obvious in all the lines of her body. I stroked a hand down her back, trying to soothe her.

"It's okay," I murmured against her hair. "I've got you."

I walked across the room, dodging the oversized, cozy furniture, and took her into the bedroom. The bed was narrower than we were used to, but I carefully undressed her before drawing back the comforter and placing her in the middle.

The fledgling blood had soaked right through my clothes and stained my skin, coating me in their stench, so I undressed and showered before joining Leia, curling my body around hers so I could hold her quietly through the night.

It took a long time for her breathing to even out to the soft tempo of sleep I'd become used to from her, and guilt wracked me the whole time for all the horrors she'd seen and the world I'd drawn her into. Danger lurked everywhere in my life; I had many enemies. And Leia always seemed to end up right in the middle.

Leia was right. I could only ensure her survival by turning her. She'd become a thrall otherwise, even if I continued to ration the blood I took from her. But turning her with violence and vengeance on her mind… I suppressed a shudder. I'd read enough in the Book of Gray since Aimée found it to know that would be a worse end.

My only chance was to help her rediscover her balance and help her remember her love for me.

Maybe then she'd want to be at my side for all the right reasons. I'd talk to her as soon as she was well enough to have the conversation, but for now I was content to just hold her and keep her physically safe in my arms, even if there was little I could do for her in the moment otherwise.

I stretched my arm out, missing the feel of Leia against me. The sheet was cold under my hand when I patted it, and my eyes sprang open.

No Leia.

I rolled over, the mattress bouncing and squeaking a little beneath my shifting weight, until I faced the window. The thin curtains let the first glow of the morning light through, and Leia sat in an armchair, her knees drawn up and covered with a throw, just watching. She didn't seem to notice I'd woken up—she didn't look in my direction, anyway.

"Leia?" I spoke her name softly, not wanting to startle her.

She didn't so much as flicker an eyelash. Nothing moved. She simply watched, staring into nothing.

I tried again. "Leia."

When she still didn't respond, didn't even seem to have heard, I climbed slowly from the bed and approached her. I walked slowly and softly and even held my hand out first, like she was a wild animal that needed to know my scent in order to trust me.

"Leia." I spoke more firmly. "Leia, can you hear me?"

She moved like she was dazed, her head swiveling in my direction. The motion was almost eerie, but when she met my gaze, her eyes were alert.

I relaxed a little, letting loose an exhale. "Are you feeling any better?"

Her eyes dulled again, and she turned away, watching something and nothing in the direction of the curtains.

I crouched at her side, taking her hand and resting it lightly against my cheek. I turned my head, brushing her fingers with my lips. "Leia, it's time to take you home."

"Home?" Her voice was raspy.

"Yes." I kissed her skin again. "I'm going to take you home."

I couldn't let her stay here, not in this state. She was further away from me than she'd ever been, and it was brutal, even after less than a day.

If I didn't do something, I might never get her back. Getting her far away from where everything had happened seemed like a good first step. I fell silent, just watching her and she stared ahead, like she didn't even know I was there again.

Exhaling a sigh, I stood. "I'll pack your things."

It wouldn't take long—there wasn't a lot. I'd brought her a couple of things after our initial trip out here, but that was when I'd been anticipating she might have a longer stay.

Back when I'd thought I could actually keep her safe. Back before I'd failed.

Epic fucking fail.

I shook my head and grabbed the duffle bag from the top shelf of the closet then began to shove her belongings inside. Mrs. Ames could fix the mess. I just had to be sure to get everything home. I wanted Leia somewhere familiar, where I could control her environment to increase her peace and make her comfortable.

After I'd gathered everything in the room up, I turned to her.

"Leia, let's get you washed and dressed."

She seemed to stand willingly enough, and she followed me without complaint. She followed without a word at all, and I glanced behind me to make sure she was following. It was like being trailed by a zombie.

I spoke to her the whole time she was in her shower, just a mindless stream of chatter while she washed herself with precise, mechanical movements. When she was finished, I drew her from the cubicle.

"Now to dry you and dress you," I murmured. Usually, I'd find this part sensual but not with Leia like this. I was efficient but careful, gentle with her as I ran the towel over her skin then dressed her in clothes comfortable enough to travel in.

"Can I get you something to eat before we leave?" I was well aware Aimée had almost abducted Chef and brought him here, and I would never tell my sister, but I approved of the action.

If Leia responded to anything, maybe it would be beignets. But she shook her head without a sound.

"Please, Leia. You have to eat," I whispered.

I sighed, exasperated by the stubbornness that had amused and irritated me so much previously. I'd admired it, really. It made her stronger than she realized, but for now, I needed her to let it go, to let me in.

I watched her carefully for her reaction, hoping she might let me in now, that she might agree to let me take care of her.

But she shook her head again. "No."