Page 37 of Curses and Casualties
We spot Ethan across the floor. He’s got a blonde human pressed against a pillar, his face buried in her neck like he’s about to mark her. And while it isn’t unheard of for wolves to mark humans, not all humans survive the mark and the look in his eyes says he isn’t in control. The music thrums, holdinghim suspended in hunger. Only the glint of wetness in his eyes—anguish beneath the mask—tells the real story.
“Ethan!” Scarlett’s voice snaps like a whip. She pushes through the dancers, shoving a vampire aside so hard he hisses and recoils. Her hand seizes Ethan’s shoulder; her other claws the air, ready to rake his face if she has to.
He doesn’t even flinch. The compulsion is too strong. His jaws are open, his teeth dangerously close to the girl’s throat. His hands are trembling on her arms—not holding, but trying desperately to hold back.
Scarlett reaches up and slaps him, hard. For a second, nothing changes. Then Ethan gasps. His body jerks. And the human girl stumbles away with a dazed, drunken giggle.
“Snap out of it, soldier!” Scarlett shouts over the music.
His head whips around to her. For a half-breath he looks ready to attack, then his eyes clear. Then Amara catches up and touches his neck and the compulsion shatters. Ethan slumps, hands braced on his knees, panting like he’s just finished a hundred-mile sprint.
“Motherfucker,” he says, voice raw. “That was like… I don’t even know, but I never want to do that again.”
“You OK?” Scarlett demands, her claws slowly retracting as she seems poised to catch him if he collapses.
“Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah, just… let’s not split up again in a place like this.”
“Agreed,” she says, and her hand briefly finds the back of his neck. “That was scary.”
Before we can all full compose ourselves, a perfectly groomed vampire appears at my elbow. This one’s old. I can feel it in the way the air goes cold around him.
“The master will see you now,” he says, his voice carrying its own subtle compulsion. “Do try to keep up. He dislikes tardiness.”
Chapter 16
Ryan
We follow him to a hidden elevator, everyone shaken by what we just experienced. Georgia’s hand is a vice around mine. I feel her mind spiraling, logic scrabbling to make sense of supernatural violation.
“That should be illegal,” Scarlett mutters as we rise. “The compulsion thing. That’s like... supernatural roofies.”
“The humans come here willingly,” our guide says without turning. “They leave unharmed, with pleasant memories and a mild case of anemia that resolves within days. It’s far more civilized than the old ways.”
“If you say so, Dracula,” Scarlett shoots back.
The vampire’s shoulders tense, but he says nothing more.
The elevator opens onto an office that screams old money and older power. Everything is mahogany and leather, with paintings that belong in museums lining the walls. Behind a massive, ornate desk sits a man who makes every hair on my body stand on end.
Nicolai, I’m guessing. He looks like he stepped out of a Renaissance painting. But his presence seeps into the room like smoke laced with poison. Pale skin, dark hair slicked back, and aface that belongs on a Renaissance statue. But his eyes—fuck, his eyes aredark. When they land on me, I feel Kane whimper.
Elder thing,my wolf warns.Centuries of death in those eyes.
“Bjorn’s marker,” Nicolai says without preamble. His accent carries hints of places that don’t exist anymore. “Give it to me.”
I hand it over and he studies it closely. “I haven’t seen one of those since...” He pauses, a smile playing at his lips. “Well, since Prague. How is the young pup?”
“Young?” I ask carefully.
“Young to me. I knew his great-grandfather. Helped him once, during that unfortunate business with the Habsburg vampires.” Nicolai stands, moving to a window that shows the city spread below like a glittering feast. “But you’re not here for history lessons. You’re here because you need something only I can provide.”
“Information,” I confirm. “About breaking an ancient curse.”
“Ah.” He turns, and his gaze lands on Georgia with laser focus. “The incomplete vessel. Ancient curses, fractured bonds, a chase through blood-soaked territory…” He hums. “Yes, this story’s made the rounds, and I can smell the fractured magic on you. Luna, isn’t it? Trapped between states, neither fully bonded nor properly free.”
Georgia stiffens. “How do you?—”
“Know these things?” Nicolai’s laugh is like aged whiskey, smooth but with a burn. “My dear, I was old when your species was still deciding whether to come down from the trees. The supernatural world is my business, and business has been very good lately.” He returns to his desk, steepling his fingers. “The Úlfhéðnar declaring blood feud, enforcers violating guest-right, and a Soul Bond pair on the run with the help of the witches network. Quite the entertainment.”
