He waves his hand dismissively. “Not important.”
Heidi whimpers, then curls forward while her face scrunches up. Freya turns to Lord Indigo. “We’re wasting time.”
I’ve never given my vein to any vampire besides Ronan, but I can’t decline helping Heidi—not that I have a choice. If I said no, Lord Indigo would just force me.
I walk over before he decides to drag me to Heidi’s side. He moves out of the way, and I sit at the edge of the mattress. Pulling up the sleeve of my dress, I offer my wrist to Heidi, but her eyes remain closed, and she doesn’t bite.
“She’s too weak. You have to open your vein for her,” Freya tells me.
“Oh, okay.” I bite my own wrist, and when there’s enough blood pouring from my self-inflicted incisions, I offer it to Heidi again.
Freya has to pry Heidi’s mouth open so the blood can drip down her throat. I expect the taste of blood on her tongue to animate her a bit, but she doesn’t seem to get a boost of energy—she doesn’t grab my wrist and suck the blood herself. This isn’t good.
“My blood doesn’t seem to be working,” I say after a while.
Tears run down Freya’s cheeks as she stares at Heidi’s face. “Please, Heidi, you need to fight. I can’t live without you.” Her voice cracks before she sobs loudly.
I realize then that Freya’s protectiveness toward Heidi goes beyond friendship. She’s in love with her.
Lord Indigo pulls my wrist away from Heidi. I open my mouth to protest, but he speaks before I can. “You’ve given enough.”
The door opens, and in comes Lord Valkor’s daughter, Lady Nisha. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Out of all the assholes here, I hate her the most. But her presence ignites something in me. For the first time since I was sedated, I feel my wolf’s presence. Hope flares in my chest. Whatever they’ve done to make my wolf dormant is wearing off. Maybe they won’t remember to knock her out again now that their attention is focused on Heidi.
Lady Nisha has an air of disgust as she walks across the room. Her nose is wrinkled, and her lips are nothing but a slash on her face.
“Lord Indigo, my father requires an update,” she says in a bored tone as if she’d rather be anywhere but here.
He looks at her with narrowed eyes and grits out, “I’m doing the best I can.”
She looks at the bloody mess on the bedsheets, then at Heidi’s sweaty and pale face. “It doesn’t seem like this one will make it. Maybe we should just cut the baby out of her.”
Freya’s eyes flash crimson as she bares her fangs at Lady Nisha. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you, bitch.”
Lady Nisha sends Freya flying across the room with a wave of her hand. Freya hits the wall with a loud bang and doesn’t get up right away. She seems stunned—probably because she banged her head.
The noise jars Heidi awake. She turns her face in Freya’s direction and raises her arm, reaching for her. Both Lady Nisha and Lord Indigo remain unfazed about the pain etched on Heidi’s face.
The odious female turns to Lord Indigo. “My father will be displeased if you let the femaleandher offspring die. I suggest you decide soon.”
“She needs stronger blood—vampireblood,” Lord Indigo replies.
Lady Nisha stands straighter, and immediately, I know what Lord Indigo wants—Ronan’s blood. He’s a strong male, and his blood probablywouldhelp Heidi. My heart beats faster, and even though they want to use him for food, I can’t help wanting Lady Nisha to do as Lord Indigo says. I need to make sure Ronan is all right, and maybe, after he helps Heidi, we can escape.
“The vampire warrior can’t come to her assistance. He’s not strong enough.”
Her reply snuffs the excitement out of me. What does she mean, he’s not strong enough?
I jump from my seat at the edge of Heidi’s bed, not hiding my worry. “What have you done to Ronan?”
The bitch levels me with a cold stare. “He’s a stubborn male, but I just figured out how I’m going to break him.”
Thirty-Two
RONAN
ELLNESARI, PRESENT DAY
The air is thick with the musty smell of damp stone and the sound of rats scurrying in the corners. The walls are rough and cold, just like the metal cuffs around my wrists, chaining me to the wall. Rotting straw sours the air, spiked with the ammonia sting of decades-old piss.
