Chapter 2

Charlotte Sanguinite

His face is bloodied. He's clutching the side of his neck, the blood practically spurting out.

He's going to die.

Whoever went after him went for his jugular. He won't survive, not for more than a couple of minutes, not the way he's bleeding out.

The decision is made in a split second.

I hurry over to him, and when he looks up, his eyes are glazed over. He doesn't seem to recognize me because he immediately bares his teeth in warning, a throaty growl emitting from him.

"I'm not trying to attack you," I assure him, holding out my hands. "You're—"

The sound of multiple footsteps has my head jerking up.

He's being chased?!

"You have to come with me!" I say, urgently now, grabbing his hand and pulling.

He growls again, his wolf in his eyes, and while it terrifies me, the people who put him in this state are even more terrifying right now.

"They'll kill you!" I hiss. "Come on! I can hide you!"

I drag him with me, and while he keeps growling, he doesn't try to pull away from me. However, as I bring him inside the animal shelter, I know his pursuers aren't idiots. If they're nonhuman, they'll know exactly where he went. I shove the Alpha behind the counter, where he slumps to the paneled floor, his breathing harsh. Then, I grab two of the new scalpels that just arrived this morning. Ricky hasn't had the chance to put them away yet.

Walking outside, I pull the shutter down halfway, and as I'm doing so, I hear the footsteps approaching me.

"You! Girl!"

I look over my shoulder casually and see two burly-looking vampires heading toward me. My heart sinks.

I won't be able to take on both of them.

As they get closer, one of them sniffs the air, and his lips curl. "You're one of us. Where's the wolf?"

"The who?" I ask innocently.

"Don't play games with us, girl." The heftier one of them takes a menacing step toward me. "We know he's—" He cuts himself off abruptly. "I know you. You're from our clan. Mack, isn't this Beruth's daughter? You don't remember me? Droga!"

A cold ball of fear forms in my chest.

I know him. He grew up with me.

Now that I think about it, the small scar on his right cheek does look familiar.

Droga snickers. "Well, well. And here I thought you were dead this whole time, maggots having feasted on your worthless flesh."

My hand tightens around the scalpels in my hand, and my body tenses. Droga was among my worst bullies. He was one of Clyde's followers and took my older brother's lead, tormenting me as much as he could. He and Clyde once broke my leg and threw me down an old well in the woods around our compound. I had been there for days, starved and close to death when I was rescued. But my father just shrugged and told me that if I had not been a defective creature, I would have managed to get out of there myself.

As a result, I've never liked confined spaces.

That incident was just one of many. As we grew up and my figure developed, my brother and Droga did a lot worse to me.

"What do you want?" My nose wrinkles in disgust as I hide my fear.

His eyes run down my body, the lust in them obvious. "The Alpha you're hiding, for starters. And then you and I are going to have some fun, like old times."

I don't hesitate, slashing out with the scalpel. He wasn't expecting it, and I get him in the throat. He clutches his neck, staggering back in surprise. His companion, Mack, jumps toward me, but I duck, avoiding his blow.

I may not be as strong as a vampire, but I've taken plenty of self-defense and other classes to make sure I'm never defenseless again. Of course, none of the instructors ever considered that I might be up against supernatural beings.

I whip the scalpel around, nicking Mack in the arm. My eyes dart to Droga, and I know I need to finish the job before his neck heals. I move toward him, but my path is blocked by Mack. He punches me in the face, and I go flying backward, falling against the door, crying out in pain.

My left eye is swelling, and I can't see much from it.

As he towers over me, I hear a snarl, and a large wolf breaks through the glass door over my head. I hear Mack scream as Robert tears out his stomach. I don't have time to be sick, because as I struggle to get to my feet, I see Droga running at me. I move to the side, avoiding his attack, and without thinking, I slam both scalpels into the back of his neck and yank them in opposite directions.

He makes a choking sound and falls flat on his face.

The wolf jumps on him, bites into the remaining part of his throat, and rips off his head completely.

Seeing Droga's head rolling away from me, I feel nauseous. At the same time, there is also a dark satisfaction within me.

He's dead.

After so many years of unspeakable torment, he's finally dead.

A small, vicious part of me wishes he had suffered more.

But at least he died knowing I had a hand in it.

The wolf moves toward me, and I stiffen. He doesn't attack me, though, simply sniffing me. Not deeming me a threat, he gives me a small lick on the face and then collapses in my arms.

For a moment, I sit there, stunned, my heart racing.

I don't have the first clue what to do about the bloodbath in the street right in front of the shelter, the bodies on the ground. And what am I supposed to do with the unconscious wolf in my arms?

Taking a few deep breaths, I look down at the wolf and then mutter, "First things first. Hide the wolf. Then hide the bodies. And then—"

My mind goes blank after that.

Do I need a shovel? Should I take the bodies to the woods and bury them? How am I supposed to get them there? Can't very well bring them on the bus, now, can I?

God, I hope Ricky doesn't show up before I've dealt with all this!

If I thought Robert in his human form was heavy, the wolf weighs ten times more.

"How is this possible?" I grunt, pulling him past the shattered front door. I didn't have time to sweep away the broken glass, and he's being dragged over it. "Sorry. I'm so sorry," I keep mumbling. "Not like this is an everyday thing for me. Please don't get mad."

My back is screaming by the time he's fully inside the office.

The next task is more difficult. Grabbing a plastic bag, I put Droga's head in it. I follow that up by dragging both bodies into the back of the shelter. There is a small yard there where we let the dogs out to play and do their business. In a corner, there's a shed. I push both bodies inside and slam the door shut. Leaning against it, I try to catch my breath.

Why were they so heavy?!

I don't have time to waste thinking about it. I make my way back into the main building and then lock the back door. There is no way to lock the front door since the glass is all shattered, so I simply sweep the shards into the shelter and close the shutters from the inside. The animals are making a racket at this point, having smelled all the blood and heard the chaos.

I finally turn my attention to the large wolf bleeding out in the reception area.

I'm not a vet by any means, but I've been saving up for veterinary school, and I've been assisting Ricky in surgeries. I can also clean and patch up wounds. To help Robert, it would be best to drag him to the back office, which is just not possible if I take into account how tiny our hallway is. He's going to end up damaging the wall or himself.

There's no other way around it.

I go back there alone, get some alcohol swabs, saline, dressing, along with a plethora of other items I need to clean and disinfect wounds and stitch the tear in his throat. He doesn't move while I'm gone. I press my lips together, praying to every deity under the sun that he doesn't awaken while I'm working on his neck. Fortunately, there is someone out there who hears my prayers, and Robert doesn't stir as I disinfect his cut and stitch it up. It's already healing, but he's going to be very anemic for a while till he eats some meat to make up for the loss of blood.

It's while I'm stitching him that a strange scent reaches me.

It's sickly sweet, and my hand goes still.

It can't be.

I lean closer and take another sniff. While I don't have the same abilities as a shifter to be able to distinguish smells, aside from blood, this is a scent I recognize.

Wolfsbane.

My father had a greenhouse where he grew it. Wolfsbane is mostly banned in wolf-shifter-dominated areas; even vampires aren't allowed to grow it based on the peace treaties and business dealings they have with the wolves. But wolves don't come into vampire territory, so my clan has never had a problem with concealing the fact that they grow it in large amounts. I often used to hide in the greenhouse because it was all the way at the other end of the compound. The gardeners would leave me be, aware of my situation.

I wasn't an idiot. I knew why my father was growing it. But I had my own set of problems as a young child who lacked protection of any sort, so I didn't really care about wolfsbane. But right now, I do. This is a problem.

The wolfsbane has gotten into the Alpha's bloodstream. It's not hard to figure out how; lately, I've been hearing things about liquid wolfsbane, which is more potent than anything.

There are only two ways to get the wolfsbane out of Robert's system. The first one is impossible in this current situation because there is no wolf healer present in the animal shelter. The other way is more intimate, and I really don't want to do it.

I gaze down at the unconscious wolf. No wonder he's not waking up; the wolfsbane must be breaking down his organs by now. I have to do something.

Two dead vampires are one thing. A dead Alpha is a death sentence. A painful one, at that.

"This is just not a good day for me," I mutter before grabbing the side of the wolf's neck and lowering my mouth.

My fangs slice into his neck, and I have to be careful not to swallow any of the blood. Shifter blood is said to be incredibly addictive, and I'm trying to decrease my problems in life, not add to them. His blood is sweet, most likely due to the wolfsbane. I spit it out and then suck some more, spitting it out as well. The process continues until the unnatural sweetness fades away.

Sure enough, minutes later, his body begins to change.

I've never seen a wolf shift before. My breath catches as it takes less than a second for the wolf to turn into a man. A very naked, well-built man.

I can't stop my eyes from straying, and when they peek at his lower body, I press my lips together and look away, feeling flustered.

Forcing myself not to stare, I take off my light sweater and cover his privates with it before studying the wounds on him. He's got plenty of them, but they'll all heal eventually. One or two are particularly bad, and I clean them up, covering them with gauze. While I'm wrapping a piece of gauze around his chest, where there is a particularly nasty wound, he stirs.

"Mr. Montgomery?" I ask slowly.

"Hmm?" He sounds groggy, and his movements are a little slow. I still don't know how he managed to wake up long enough to attack Mack and Droga.

"Mr. Montgomery, how're you feeling? Can I call somebody for you?" I tie up the ends of the gauze in a clean knot before helping him lean against the back of the desk.

His eyes are half-open now. "Did you save me?"

I open my mouth, and for a second, I forget how to speak.

"I—No, no. Can I call somebody for you?"

"H—Harry."

"Okay, alright. Do you know his number?"

He seems a little out of it, but he has the number memorized. Slowly, he gives me one digit after the next, his voice rough and husky.

I dial the number, but no one picks up. I keep calling, and finally, a sleepy voice answers. "What?"

"Is this Harry?"

"Of course it is!" the person on the other end grumbles.

"I have Robert Montgomery here with me. He was badly injured."

The alertness in his voice is followed by a creaking sound, as if he's sitting up in bed. "Address?"

I shoot off the address, and he verifies it once before abruptly disconnecting the call. I sink to the cold floor beside the Alpha.

"This is going to be a long night," I sigh tiredly. I still have to figure out what to do about the blood on the street and inside the shelter. Then there are the bodies. Where do I bury them? And how on earth do I explain all this damage?

"You have beautiful hair," the Alpha suddenly murmurs. I notice the flicker of awareness in his gaze when I turn to look at him, but he's not completely alert.

"Th—Thank you," I stammer. "It's mine."

I close my eyes in mortification as soon as the words are out of my mouth. What was that? Why didn't I just stick to a brief "thanks"?

I shake my head, embarrassed.

Of all the things to say.

It's mine.

Sometimes I wonder if my brain cells like to give up on me momentarily, just to see what kind of gibberish comes out when they abandon me.

"I know it's yours," the Alpha chuckles. "Pretty hair always belongs to a pretty lady."

"That makes no sense." I pat his hand, pretty certain he's not going to remember any of this tomorrow. "But thank you."

Once he gets to a healer, the remaining wolfsbane will be removed from his system, and he'll be fine. But right now, he's acting a little drunk.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

His question, along with this entire situation, is so ridiculous that I can either laugh or cry. I choose the former.

Leaning my head against the desk, I giggle. "Very pretty. In fact, you're prettier than me."

"Oh, I don't think so." He rests his head on my shoulder, and from the limpness in his hand, I know he's on the verge of passing out again. His voice is growing hazier. "You look—You look like a medieval queen with that beautiful hair and those eyes. I could get lost in them..."

He slumps forward into my lap, and I freeze.

"You okay?" I push him a little, but he doesn't move. "Hey," I say, poking his cheek.

He's as still as can be. Sighing, I run my fingers through his short, silken strands. "May as well."

I stay there like that for what seems like an eternity before someone begins banging on the shutter.

"Oh, shit." I blurt. "Oh God, Ricky's here."

"Robert! Robert, are you in there?!"

Relief fills me, and I practically shove the Alpha off my lap before running to the door. It's hard to see out of my swollen left eye; it's really hurting. I open the shutter and glare at the man around my age standing outside. "Keep it down! I've got two dead vampires in here!"

He stares at me and then growls. Before I can blink, he grabs me by the throat, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

"Stop it!" I struggle to speak. "I'm the one who called you!"

"Liar!" the boy roars. "Is this a trap? Did you lure me here to—"

"Are you blind, you idiot?!" I snap back. "Look behind me!"

He moves his head to the side, and his eyes widen. "Robert!"

Pushing me to the ground, he makes a dash for the unconscious Alpha. "Robert, are you okay?"

Coughing from his attempt at strangling me, I sit up. "He's got wolfsbane in his system."

"You—"

"I didn't do anything to him!" I scowl, angry now. "I saved his life. And if you don't believe me, you can check the security camera footage!"

"I will," he declares furiously. "Come on, Robert."

I get to my feet. "You'll need a vehicle. You can't carry him. He's got stitches."

"My car's outside."

"I'll help you." At this point, I really just want both of them out of here.

"You'll help?" Harry looks suspicious.

"Help carry him to the car," I say, annoyed. "Look, I've got enough to deal with here. There are two dead vampires in the back shed, one broken glass door, blood everywhere, and the human vet is about to arrive. I don't have time to deal with you. I'll help you carry him, and then please, never come back here."

Harry flinches. "Okay."

I grab Robert's legs, but as I do so, my sweater falls off of him.

I drop him immediately.

"Hey!" Harry shouts indignantly. "He's an Alpha! Have some respect!"

"You take his legs, then!" I can feel my ears burn. Robert Montgomery is wickedly attractive even with the scarring on his face, and I would rather not look at him any more than I have to. It's bad enough that I'm harboring a crush on this man; do I have to look at his naked form, too? My heart can only take so much!

"You're crazy," Harry hisses through his teeth. "Wait till Robert wakes up. He's going to have a few things to say to you…"

"Those words better be ‘thank you' and ‘I will never bother you again'!" I pant as I help move the unconscious man, who really is heavier than he looks, to the car.

Once Robert is secured in the back seat, Harry turns to look at me and then the damage. He must not have realized the extent of it when he first got here. His expression distorts. "Um, I can have a team here in ten minutes to clean everything up and deal with the bodies."

"Really?" My irritation fades.

He nods. "Just wait here."

He starts the engine, and I watch him drive away.

As his car grows smaller and smaller in the distance, my heart tightens in my chest.

Two dead vampires.

My father's not going to let that go.