Page 10 of Sophie's Ruin
Don’t make me take it from you,his eyes pleaded.
My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it, trying to suppress my nature and not flash my fangs. I didn’t want to provoke Waylon, because if I did and he lashed out, the wild side of me would break free and hurt him…savagely. The predator within was prowling just below the surface of my skin, waiting for what would happen next. I was brimming with primal violence on the brink of being unleashed. Suddenly, the predator stopped prowling and sniffed the air. My nostrils flared as I smelled it. Blood.
Heart pounding, I turned toward the dark woods surrounding the clearing and held my breath. I peered into the tall and twisted shapes making up the tree line as I waited, praying to see an outline of the familiar silhouette, a shadow of the powerful body I’d only begun to explore, but that was as dear to me as my own. When the scent of the one who was bleeding intensified, carried to me by the breeze, relief sparked in my chest, but it was mixed with heart-wrenching disappointment. The scent wasn’t the one I’d hoped for. It wasn’t him. I’d knownit all along. When I’d first smelled the blood, I knew it wasn’t the sweet essence of him, but I’d still allowed myself to hope, if only for a moment.
A dark shape separated from the trees, and I narrowed my eyes, zeroing in on the one who’d stepped out of the woods. I smelled Isabelle, I was sure of it, but she wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t walking. She was being carried by a hooded figure. The scent of the one carrying her was familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place it. Muscles tensing, I moved my right foot back, preparing to run to Isabelle. I didn’t know if the one carrying her was friend or foe, and I wasn’t going to wait any longer to find out.
“Wait,” Celeste stopped me with a hand on my arm.
I glanced at her before refocusing on the hooded figure. A man, judging by his gait and musky scent. His face was cast in shadows as he made his way toward us until he was close enough for me to peer under the hood. My eyes widened in shock as I took in the shaggy blond hair and light stubble. Pale-blue eyes locked on mine, but they didn’t dance anymore like they’d used to.
“Wren,” I breathed, staggering back a step.
The young man quickly closed the distance between us with Isabelle limp and boneless in his arms. When he approached, the coppery smell of her blood enveloped me as I quickly scanned her injuries. Countless cuts and lacerations covered her body, and a ragged wound gaped on the side of her neck as if someone had tried to rip out her throat. A shudder rolled through me at the grisly sight.
“I found her not far from here. She’s in really bad shape,” Wren told Celeste.
“Were you followed?” I asked, not looking at him. I couldn’t force my gaze away from Isabelle’s mutilated body.
“No,” Wren replied. “No one will be able to track us here.”
I finally tore my eyes away from Isabelle and looked at him.
“I carry a hex bag in my pocket to cover up my scent and protect me when I’m moving about the Black Forest,” he explained when I arched a brow.
“I need one of those,” Waylon said, drawing my attention to him. “I can use it to return to New Haven. I have to warn the others about what the clans are planning.”
“You can’t return,” I heard myself say. My voice sounded foreign to my ears. It was cold and detached. “The clans will catch you and use you to find me.”
“I won’t tell them anything. I’d rather lose my life than?—”
“You won’t get a choice,” I cut him off. “Some of the vampires can compel. Bend your will to theirs. They will get the information out of you.”
In fact, the clan leaders could simply compel the guards to hide the truth about what had truly happened on the border, but I doubted they would choose such a humane approach.
Waylon paled, swallowing hard.
“I have to warn the others,” he insisted. “The clans want to hide the truth about the Dark Witches, to keep up this farce that we need their protection. The guards from the border are the only ones who know what really happened. The clan leaders will come for them–”
“I know,” I said low, my voice hollow.
Waylon’s face became leached of all color. I knew what I was asking of him was too much—an impossible decision. But I couldn’t let him return to New Haven and undo what Henry had done to protect me and the amulet.
The air became thick with misery and anguish as Waylon and I stared at each other in silence. A few minutes ago, I’d wondered what he was prepared to do for his people. Now, I was wondering how far I was willing to go to not let him leave thisclearing. Judging by his expression, he was wondering the same thing.
His gaze flicked over me, sharp and assessing. A muscle flexed along his jaw as he calculated his odds. They weren’t good. Waylon was a skilled fighter, but even he couldn’t go up against a vampire, especially one anticipating an attack. Another second passed in tense silence as Waylon and I stood squared off against each other. Finally, his eyes shuttered and he released a jagged breath, giving in. My coiled muscles relaxed just a fraction because I wouldn’t have to hurt my long-time friend. If I could still call him that after tonight.
Isabelle whimpered softly in Wren’s arms, snapping my attention to her. I knew the weak sound couldn’t possibly be a true representation of the agony raging inside her.
“Is there anything you can do for her?” Wren asked urgently, turning to Celeste.
My brows lifted at the genuine look of concern on his face.
“No.” The witch gave a small shake of her head. “She needs blood.”
Wren’s boyish features hardened with determination.
“Out of my way,” he said firmly, his eyes trained on the cottage behind us.
