I sink my teeth into her neck.
The alpha mark isn't clean. Isn't planned. Just a desperate bite over her scent gland, copper and moonlight flooding my tongue and throat as my teeth dig into her soft flesh. The incomplete bond snaps into place like a rubber band pulled taut, and suddenly I can feel her.
Her pain crashes into me like a tidal wave. It's everywhere—burning through neural pathways, tearing at connections thatshould never be touched. I gasp against her skin, my own body shuddering with the echo of her agony.
But Cosima's screams quiet to whimpers, her convulsions easing as I take some of the pain into myself. Not all of it—not even close—but all I can possibly absorb through our bond. Enough that she can breathe. Enough that the terror and pain in her eyes dims slightly.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Geo demands. He sounds terrified. Helpless. And I'm pretty sure that's something he's never felt before in his life.
"Marking her," I choke out, still biting her, my voice strangled by the blood. "Taking the pain. Nikolai—help?—"
He's already moving, understanding without needing explanation. He shoves me aside and sinks his sharpened fangs into the spot beside mine. The bond strengthens as he lathes the blood from the wound with his tongue, spreading the burden across both of us.
But it's still not enough.
"Knight," Geo says to Plague, voicing what we're all thinking. "He's her scent match just as much as they are. We need him. The bond won't be complete without him. Won't be strong enough to pull her back from whatever abyss she's falling into."
"And your brother," Nikolai grits out bitterly, glaring at Plague, his lip curling in pure hatred at the words coming out of his own mouth. "If our bites aren’t enough, he’s her fucking scent match, too."
Chapter 45
AZAREL
My head poundswith the rhythm of my pulse, each throb sending fresh waves of nausea through my gut. The sedative clings to my consciousness like tar, dragging me down even as I claw my way toward awareness.
I force my eyes open.
Stone walls. Torchlight flickering across damp rock. The stench of piss and old blood.
A dungeon.
My brother threw me in a fucking dungeon. The most dilapidated part, from the looks of it.
The chains around my wrists bite into flesh, cold iron anchored to the wall behind me. I test them instinctively, knowing before I pull that they won't give. Plague wouldn't use anything less than reinforced steel on someone he considers a threat.
Smart bastard.
My vision swims, doubles, then slowly resolves. The cell is small, maybe twelve feet across. Bare stone floor slick with moisture. A drain in the center that probably sees more use than I want to think about.
And across from me?—
Knight.
The massive alpha hangs limp in his own chains, arms spread wide and shackled to the opposite wall. His bone-white hair falls forward like a curtain, hiding his face. Blood drips from beneath the curtain of hair, drops that plink steadily against the stone.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Each marks a second we don't have. A second Cosima doesn't have.
My chest tightens.
I can still feel her through the incomplete bond we share. It's faint, barely there, like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. But it exists. A thin thread connecting my soul to hers across whatever distance separates us.
And that thread is fraying.
"Knight." My voice comes out rough, scraped raw from roaring. "Knight, wake up."
No response. Just the steady drip of blood and the rasp of labored breathing that tells me he's alive but not much more than that.
