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And for the first time in my life, that feels okay.

CHAPTER 45

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Little moon, don’t go. I won’t survive it.”

Godric’s words thrum through me like a prayer.

It’s one of the tethers that keeps my spirit from moving on. Just like when I found Arwan’s tower, I knew I was locked in this place with nothing to help me survive it.

Except, that’s no longer true.

I have three reasons to survive now.

“Stay,” Ze’ev adds, making my eyes flash open.

Did he just speak… aloud?

I lick my lips, wondering if I might taste the Rinhold potion on them, but I taste Godric instead.

Cedar and smoke and sex.

My eyes widen when I recognize the fever thrumming through me and the deep aching need in my core that makes me want to claw my stomach apart.

I’m in heat.

He kisses me again, and I realize he’s been lavishing me with attention for hours now.

This must be one of my dreams.

I’ve experienced all three of my sponsors so many nights before, but it was a fantasy. It wasn’t real. It was my mind attempting to reconcile the effects of the infusion I received that changed my biology.

I had been injected with vampire and wolf DNA, which meant all of this was just an erotic side effect. It couldn’t be real⁠—

“It’s real,” Ze’ev whispers in my ear and then bites, as if to prove a point, and the pain makes me yelp.

Either he can literally read my thoughts, or I was thinking aloud again.

Godric swallows my sounds as Ze’ev licks the wound, soothing the small hurt.

My dream feels like it has come alive with Godric at my front, Ze’ev at my back, and Arwan’s blue eyes watching from the edge of the bed.

“That’s it, little queen,” the prince says with a smile that shows his dimples. “Focus on us. Focus on how our touch makes you feel.” He crawls closer and cups my chin as Godric roughly kisses my neck.

My eyes flutter closed again as Ze’ev slides up a dress I don’t recall putting on.

“How?” I ask on a loose breath.

I don’t remember anything.

But I’m clean. All the grime of the Deadlands has been washed away, and my skin is flawless. My hair is light, and my body only suffers from hunger.

Not for food, though. For my men.

More, I think as Godric runs his tongue over mine.

My thigh only has a slight ache from where an arrow had pierced it, and Ze’ev dips his fingers over the remaining scar as if he’s apologizing.