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“W hen live plague virus is exposed to the sample blood, it doesn’t respond.” Gretchen flips through a legal pad of scribbles. “There’s no replication. It doesn’t even try to invade. None of the proteins interact.”

“How’s that possible?” Wyatt swipes his hair from his eyes as we go through the same facts over and over again, looking for the missing piece of the equation.

“Simple. The blood isn’t human.” I spin in my desk chair. “The virus won’t replicate in non-human cells. There’s no host receptor available in any other species.” My statement that Valen and his kind aren’t human isn’t even debatable anymore. This room full of skeptical scientists knows it’s the truth, no matter how far beyond our understanding it is.

“Except for the bonobo. It has the receptors, too. Maybe Juno’s Miracle has been a bonobo all along,” Aang chimes in. “And what the hell happened to your arm?”

“Just an accident.” I pull the sleeve of my sweater down to cover it.

He gives me an eyebrow raise. “Uh huh.”

“It’s a no on the bonobo angle. Now let’s go back to the samples themselves. How are they different from each other?” We have to find the strands of the three bloodlines. With no DNA to go on, there has to be some other method of deconstructing them. Something not contained in all the blood science humans have been conducting for centuries. Something new.

“They aren’t, save for the one with the antibodies.” Gretchen scrolls through mounds of data with a few clicks.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why antibodies?” Aang asks.

“Right.” I point at him.

He looks at me like I’m a complete idiot. “Well, generally speaking, Doctor , antibodies exist as an immune response to disease vectors.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“That this new species can get sick?” Gretchen sounds less than sure of her answer.

“Precisely.” I drum my fingers on my desk. “If they can get sick—” We can kill them . “—there has to be some other mechanism in their blood that allows it to heal humans. Some factor we’re missing.”

“There’s nothing else in the blood we’ve been given.” Evie ropes her blonde hair up into a ponytail. “The cells look the same, react the same to everything we’ve thrown at them. There’s nothing there.”

“Nothing we can see under the microscope,” I correct her. “But there is something. We have to go outside conventional methods.”

“We could …” Wyatt shrugs. “Mix them?”

“Yes!” I nod. “See what that does.”

“Maybe pull some other viruses from the national stores and see if they interact with the cells?” Aang turns and starts typing immediately. “I’ll have to talk to Director Hamberg, get authorization.” He groans.

“If he says no, tell me. I’ll fix it.” At least, I think I can go around him somehow. I suppose I’ll deal with that problem if it arises.

“I can get the good stuff. Covid, flu strains, whatever common cold strains they have on file, RSV. Maybe some HPV for fun? Chicken pox, definitely.” He goes on, mumbling a litany of viruses under his breath.

“Anything else outside of the box?” I ask.

Gretchen raises her hand.

“You don’t have to raise—” I give up and point at her like we’re in class. “Yes, go.”

“Human trials.”

“Um, record scratch .” Aang stops typing and gawks at her.

“Hey, she said ‘outside the box.’” Gretchen holds up her hands.

“She didn’t say ‘violate every code known to every scientist the world over.’” Aang gives her a disapproving look.

“No human trials,” I say quickly. My run-in with Valen is still playing at the forefront of my mind.

Gretchen is crestfallen.

“But don’t think it isn’t a good idea. It is,” I add, her face brightening a little. “We just can’t go off halfcocked. Especially not with live subjects. This blood, even though we’ve analyzed it six ways from Sunday, is still an unknown quantity.”

“Yeah, no Frankenstein shit. We aren’t that desperate yet.” Aang goes back to typing his email.

I nod, at least agreeing with Aang in theory. But he’s wrong. I am that desperate. Time is ticking away. Juno gave us a year to solve this. Gregor whittled that down to only months, and half my time is already gone.

I have to rely on my team to find a cure for the plague and myself to find the vampires’ weakness. It’s the only way to keep Juno—and me, and all of us—alive.

* * *

“Not my favorite.” Candice wipes her palms together, crumbs falling from them to her plate. “I think it would’ve been better as a red velvet.”

I glance down at the chocolate chip cookies. “Harsh. This is my first ever baking attempt.”

“You asked for my opinion.” She eyes the misshapen, oddly flat treats. “And that’s it.”

“Fine. I’ll try again.”

“You think you deserve a second chance?” Her tone goes sharp.

“What?”

She leans across the table, her eyes taking on a hard glint. “I asked you if you think you deserve a second chance.”

“At making cookies? I’m not following.”

“Oh, Professor.” She clucks her tongue. “There’s plenty you aren’t following. You’re in a mess. You don’t have time to play a guessing game.” She points at my plate.

This time when I look down, it’s swimming with blood. I yell and shove back from the table, the lights in the governor’s mansion flickering around us. “What is this?”

She stands, her skirt suit turning black along the collar, then lower.

“What—” I stare, horror creeping through me on clawed feet.

“You don’t get another chance.” Her voice goes hoarse as her throat tears open, black blood running from the gaping wound. “You’re done, Professor. You’re dead. Just like me.” Her eyes go white, and her mouth opens. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream. It goes on and on, piercing through every layer of me, right down to my soul.

“Georgia!” She’s got her hands on me now, shaking me as she screeches into my face, her skin going papery and black.

I fight her, trying to shove her away as the power fails, and the entire room goes dark.

“Georgia!” Her voice changes, melts into something else. “Georgia, wake up!”

I gasp, my lungs burning.

“Georgia!”

My eyes open, and I’m in the dark. A figure looms over me. Hands on my arms where Candice’s were.

“It’s just a dream.” A low voice, almost soothing. “Let it go.”

I blink several times, and that’s when I see the feline glow of his eyes, smell his familiar scent. “Valen.”

“You’re safe.”

“No, I’m not,” I choke out, tears already running down my face. My throat is raw.

He doesn’t disagree with me, only pulls me to him.

I can’t push away, can’t do anything except relive the horror of Candice’s death as I cry. One of the monsters responsible has me cradled in his arms, and I should fight him, claw his eyes out, do anything other than give up. But that’s exactly what I do. I melt into him and let go, my body racked with sobs as I let it out.

Juno held me like this. A long time ago. It seems like an entire lifetime ago. I’d been in med school, the other candidates giving me hell because of my age, and some because of my gender. It had been a rough few months of my first semester. That’s when Juno showed up at my apartment, waiting for me as I dragged myself home from the library at almost midnight.

“What are you doing here?” I’m so bewildered I drop my keys. She lives states away, but here she is on my front stoop in her business clothes as if she ran out of one of her constituent meetings.

“Let’s go inside.” She tries to smile but her teeth don’t show. It’s the fake smile, the one she uses when she’s campaigning. It won her a city council seat, then the mayoral election. But it gets no points from me.

I stare at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Come on.”

I hear the wobble in her voice, and my stomach drops. “Tell me.”

“Please, Georgia. Inside.” She takes my keys and unlocks my door with shaking hands.

“Sit down.” She walks to my couch and sits.

“Is it Mom? Dad?” I swallow hard and drop my backpack, then plop next to her. “Just tell me.”

She takes my hands in hers. “It’s Dad.”

The bridge of my nose stings, and I force myself to ask, “What happened?”

She tells me. He’d been cleaning out the rain gutters along the roof. The ladder slipped. That was all it took. One accident. One misplaced foot or errant reach for more—it’s enough to give death an opening.

Candice, though, her death wasn’t some twist of fate, an unhappy accident. It was a brutal killing, the taking of an innocent life. What I feel isn’t just grief, the shock of loss. It’s horror. It’s something darker and deeper—rage. Impotent rage that morphs into guilt and then back again. I should’ve done something. I should’ve helped her.

“Shhh.” Valen strokes my hair. “It’s over. Only a nightmare.”

“It’s not.” My chest stutters as more tears try to escape. “It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.” I look up at him, at his shining eyes in the dim light. “ You’re real.”

He cups my cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Georgia.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He glances at my mouth, one of his hands cupping the nape of my neck. “But it’s the truth.”

He shouldn’t be here. Not in my bedroom like this. I’m vulnerable. He’s dangerous. My emotions are running too high for me to think straight. Grief and terror, loneliness and regret. “Why did you come?”

“I heard you scream.”

“That’s not why.” I shake my head, more tears falling along my cheeks. “Tell me the truth.”

“I already told you.” He uses his thumb to swipe them away. “Your blood calls to mine,” he whispers.

“I don’t know what that means.”

He drops his palm to my chest, pressing it over my heart.

My breath hitches.

“This.” He presses against me, his touch warm through my thin shirt. “This calls to me. I feel it as if it’s my own.”

“You don’t have a heart.”

He smirks, a cruel twist of his lips that makes my stomach flutter. “I’ve been told that before, but I assure you I do.” His hand slides lower until it’s cupping my breast. “I have desires. Dreams. Nightmares.” He runs his thumb along my nipple, and it hardens at the touch.

My entire body heats, desire fizzing through me in an effervescent haze. Why am I not pushing him away? Because I’m weak. Weak and worn out. I don’t know who I am in this moment. Don’t know what I want.

“My blood calls to you, too, kedves verem .” His fingers twine in my hair, and he pulls my head back until he’s staring down into my eyes. “You feel it.”

“I—”

He claims my mouth. Not gently, not anything except predatory and possessive. It steals my breath, my heart pounding as he swipes his tongue against mine, an animalistic growl in his throat.

I can’t think. Can’t do anything except feel him, his hard body pressing against mine as his mouth takes me over in a searing kiss. He angles my head, deepening it as he tongues me. I grip his shirt, my body tingling, my mind humming with need and nothing else. There’s no room for any other thought.

He holds me tightly and takes, and takes, and takes. And heaven help me, it feels so good. So delicious. I open wider for him, our tongues tasting and teasing. It’s heaven and it’s hell. But I can’t stop.

Laying me back, he doesn’t break our kiss as he lifts my shirt, his hand finding my breast again. When he twists my nipple, I arch against him. Now his growl is deeper, rumbling through his chest and into mine.

Pressing a thigh between my legs, he settles on top of me. When I feel his thick length against my thigh, I moan. He swallows the sound, his hand still at my breast, teasing my nipple until I’m writhing at his touch.

I have no rational thought, no reasoning, nothing but a desperate need that courses through me, tightening a coil inside me until it’s ready to spring free. It’s been so long, so desperately long since I’ve been touched like this. Since I’ve wanted to be touched like this. But with him, it’s more than simple want. It’s all-encompassing. It’s the feeling I’ve been fighting for months now. Invited to dance with the devil. Refusing, and refusing, and refusing until it’s all too much, too fucking intriguing to say no.

He moves his other leg between mine. When his hard cock presses against my clit, I buck at the sudden sensation. I’m on fire, blazing from the touch of his skin against mine.

He pulls back, his feline gaze capturing me in the dark. “I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you.” His voice is gravel, rough and thick.

I run my hands along his chest. He reaches back and grips his shirt, then yanks it over his head and tosses it away. I feel his heartbeat, strong beneath his smooth skin and hard muscle. He’s warm and alive and so beautiful in the dark. He takes my mouth again, his body pressed to mine as I wrap my legs around his waist. With a rough tug, he pulls my shirt up and leans down, his lips fastening to one of my nipples.

I dig my nails into his shoulders as he sucks and licks, his tongue exploring first one breast, then the other. Every touch sends me higher, my body teetering on the edge. I want him, all of him. I don’t care about anything else. Just the pleasure, the release, the respite from all the pain.

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls, forcing me to arch for him, his mouth at my breast, his cock so hard against my throbbing clit. I moan as he licks the valley between my breasts then fastens his lips to my throat.

“Valen,” I rock my hips against him, desperate for friction. I could come just from this, from his touch, his mouth.

He jolts, then pulls back. His fangs are long now, sharp and deadly, and there’s a smudge of red on his lips. Fear begins to douse the flames, and the reality of blood on his mouth is a cold slap to the face.

What the hell am I doing?

“Valen?” I swipe my fingers along my throat, and they come away bloody. “Get off me!” I yank my shirt down.

“Georgia, I didn’t?—”

“Off!” I scream.

He sighs and gets to his feet. “I didn’t intend to?—”

“You didn’t intend to fucking bite me?” I put a hand to my neck and scoot up until my back is against the headboard. “God, what am I doing?” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “This was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had the nightmare, and then …”

“You want me.” He stares down at me, his pale skin like perfectly-carved marble in the low light.

I pull my blanket up to my chin. “Please go.” Shame burns me like a brand. I’m so fucking pathetic, so desperate for some sort of affection that I almost let a monster inside me. This isn’t who I am. “Wait, is this you? Did you do this to me? You can make people do things. That’s what Gage said.”

He pulls his shirt on, then gives me a look so icy that I force myself not to flinch. “You think I’ve done something to make you want me?”

I don’t respond, but I suppose that’s answer enough.

He leans down and puts his hands on either side of the headboard. His mouth is so close that my lips tingle from the memory of his kiss. “You want me, Georgia. Not because of something I’ve done, but because of who you are. Don’t fool yourself into thinking this is anything else.” He pushes off and stalks from the room, then slams the door to the stairs on his way out.

“God.” I press my palms to my face and take deep breaths. My mind is finally in charge, but my body still hums at a low level, simmering when I want it to be stone cold.

Valen is just playing me. That’s what he’s been doing from the very beginning. I have to remember the stakes, remember who, no what , he is. Whatever this was, it can’t happen again.

I slide down under the covers and close my eyes. My bed smells like him now. Or maybe I smell like him. I turn and aggressively fluff my pillow. Sleep comes eventually. This time it’s free of nightmares. Instead, I dream of feline eyes in a shadowy forest and owls hooting a warning from the trees.