Page 264 of Shifting Hearts 1
She shook her head. Beth had died of a broken heart. I sighed.
“I should tear you apart for everything you’ve done. You were never meant to become this. I don’t care if you were wolf material or not. This, this wasn’t the way.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.
“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” His hands trembled with barely contained fury. “Your eyes… demon eyes, still in transition from red. I know how long that takes. But you, youloved death. You kept killing even after you stopped feeding on humans. You’re some kind of?—”
“No,” she interrupted sharply. “Someone in my coven wanted the world to believe I was still Blaze. That I was at large. It’s a hoax. I haven’t used my fire in decades.”
“I heard the pack killed two Varcolacs. Abominations. You must know that.”
“They inspired me. They existed because a wolf and a vampire could love each other.”
“It’s wrong!” he growled.
“I know that now. I’m sorry. I can’t undo it, so just kill me.”
Part of me wished he would. To finally put an end to all of it. But I knew he wouldn’t.
Instead, he bit her exactly where the she-wolf had, drawing out the venom. He spat the poisoned blood to the floor. Over and over again.
“Why?” she demanded. “Kill me! I don’t want to live!”
“No,” he said, spitting again. “You’re clean. You will live. And with the gods as my witnesses, your memory will return. You’ll feel all the pain you inflicted on us.”
She stared. He stared. The tension between them was suffocating. A tear slid down my cheek.
He didn’t speak again. He went for gasoline, poured it over everything. She was immune to fire.
He lit his Zippo and looked at her standing at the doorway. He still loved her, but realizing she had been the thorn in their sides all these years broke him.
“Do me a favor: stay dead. Because if I ever find you again… I will kill you myself.”
Then he dropped the flame onto the gasoline.
It tooka full day for her strength to return completely.
She emerged from the shed—naked, scarred—but as she stepped outside, her skin healed, leaving no trace of what had been done to her. I followed at a distance, watching as she found a washing line in someone’s yard and, with quiet efficiency, stole a pair of pants and a shirt.
Then she ran. Fast. Far.
Eventually, we ended up in New Orleans, and I knew this would be where she made her new life. She rented a small apartment above a bar and took work as a scullery maid in one of the local restaurants.
Months passed. She began to gain a strange respect for humans, hunting only in the nearby forests, far enough from her coven yet close enough to survive. Slowly, she became something of a protector of New Orleans. Other supernaturals lived there too, but they kept their distance.
On her nightly walks, she always left food for those in need, never asking names or wanting anything in return.
Her new persona wasn’t enough. I needed more distance from Morgan’s shadow to not see her for what she had been. I would be the first Lockpass who wouldn’t want to be with his mate… if she even was supposed to be mine.
She was polite with humans, made a joke or two—but it wasn’t a Morgan joke. It was Natasha. And I didn’t like Natasha. She had killed the love of my life.
Work became a rhythm for her. She was promoted from scullery maid to busser, and then to waitress under Jeremy’s guidance. One night, after stopping a robbery, Jeremy’s trust inher deepened. He even gave her an extra set of keys, seeing her dedication as she opened and locked the restaurant each day.
Then the night came when she heard a commotion. A gunshot. That was how she turned Paul, he wanted it, and she, surprisingly, controlled herself. She bit him, stopped at the right moment, a miracle in itself. She helped him back to her apartment, cleaned him up. He reminded me of Ryan, tall, dark-blonde hair, glasses. And then the pain began.
She handed him a pillow and begged him to scream into it. He understood, venting his agony while she stayed beside him, her fire simmering but restrained. She could have killed him, and yet… she didn’t.
She was done. She was lonely.
