Bloodbound Hearts

The wolf’s gray coat was matted with blood. One hind leg twisted beneath him, and his breath came in shallow whines. Mara’s relief lasted only until she saw the black veins spreading from the wound at his flank.

Poison.

She climbed down toward him.

“Tavin, look at me.”

His yellow eyes opened. He tried to rise, failed, and snarled - not at her, but at something beyond her shoulder.

Mara turned.

A man stood on the opposite shelf, tall and still beneath the red moon. His coat was black, his skin pale enough to catch the thin light. A silver clasp gleamed at his throat, marked with the Vale family crest.

Lucian Vale.

Mara knew the name. Every wolf did. He was the vampire heir who had refused three blood-feuds and insulted two covens by doing so. Some called him weak. Others called him dangerous because he had survived long enough to become neither.

His gaze moved from Mara to Tavin.

“Step away from him,” he said.

His voice was quiet. It carried anyway.

Mara bared her teeth. “You first.”

“I’m not the one standing over a poisoned wolf.”

“And I’m not the one who put the poison in him.”

A flicker crossed his face. Not surprise. Recognition.

“You followed the blood trail from the north ridge,” he said.

“You know where it begins?”

“I know where it ends.”

The ground trembled beneath them.

Mara felt it through the soles of her boots. Stone groaned. Somewhere above, a tree cracked with a sound like a breaking bone.

Lucian looked up.

“Move,” he said.

The ravine wall collapsed.

Mara lunged for Tavin as earth and stone thundered into the gap. Dust struck her eyes. Roots whipped through the air. She seized the wolf by the scruff and dragged him beneath an overhang just as a slab of shale crashed where she had been standing.

Lucian vanished behind a curtain of falling dirt.

“Tavin!”

The wolf coughed. Mara pressed herself over him while stones rattled across the ledge. The air filled with grit and the bitter scent of crushed pine.

When the noise faded, the ravine had changed shape. The path behind Mara was buried. The upper slopes were broken by fresh cracks.

A hand appeared through the dust.

Lucian pulled himself onto the ledge, one sleeve torn from wrist to elbow. A thin line of blood ran along his cheek.

Mara’s body reacted before her judgment could stop it. Her attention caught on the red line, on the way it brightened against his skin.

Vampire blood smelled different from wolf blood - colder somehow, sweet beneath the iron. She wanted to know what it would taste like.

The thought struck her so sharply she looked away.

Lucian noticed.

His mouth curved, but there was no amusement in it. “If you’re going to kill me, wolf, wait until we’re not standing beneath half a mountain.”

“I was considering it.”

“Consider faster. The rest of the wall is coming down.”

As if summoned by his words, another crack split the ravine.

Mara looked to Tavin. His breathing had worsened. Black lines crawled beneath the fur around his wound.

“We need to get him out,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You know another way?”

Lucian pointed toward a narrow cleft in the rock. “There’s an old drainage tunnel beneath the border. It leads to the eastern rise.”

“Vampire tunnels.”

“Built by wolves before your elders decided the stones belonged to them.”

Mara’s claws pressed against her palms. “You expect me to trust you?”

“No.” He stepped closer, eyes fixed on Tavin. “I expect you to decide whether distrust is worth his life.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

Mara crouched beside Tavin and slid an arm under his shoulders. “Help me lift.”

Lucian hesitated.

“Unless vampires have forgotten how.”

His eyes sharpened. “I’ve forgotten nothing.”

He took Tavin’s legs. His gloves brushed Mara’s hand as they raised the wolf together. The contact was brief, but heat sparked through her fingers, startlingly alive against the vampire’s cool skin.

Lucian felt it too. His grip tightened for half a second.

Then he looked away.

They carried Tavin into the cleft. The passage narrowed almost immediately, forcing Mara to turn sideways. Stone scraped her shoulders. Lucian walked behind her, close enough that she could feel his presence at her back without touching him.

“Your patrol will be searching the northern trail,” he said.

“My patrol will kill him if they find him like this.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll think your kind did it.”

“They would be wrong.”

“That has never stopped either side.”

The tunnel dipped. Mara’s boot slipped on wet stone. Lucian caught her elbow.

His fingers closed around her with careful strength.

She looked down at his hand.

“Let go.”

He did at once. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

“No. You threatened me instead. I’m beginning to understand the pattern.”

Despite herself, a breath of laughter escaped her. It vanished quickly, swallowed by the tunnel.

Lucian’s gaze lingered on her face.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“That was not nothing.”

“You laugh like you’re angry about it.”

Mara shifted Tavin’s weight higher against her shoulder. “You speak like you’re hoping I’ll forget you’re a vampire.”

“No,” he said. “I’m hoping you’ll remember I’m not the vampire who hurt him.”

The tunnel opened into a hollow chamber beneath the ravine. Water dripped from the ceiling. Old border stones formed a broken ring around a shallow pool, their surfaces carved with symbols worn smooth by time.

Tavin convulsed.

Mara lowered him onto the stone floor. “What did they do?”

Lucian knelt beside the wolf. He removed one glove and pressed two fingers near the wound without touching it.

“Blackthorn venom,” he said. “Mixed with something else.”

“Can you cure it?”

“I can slow it.”

“Do it.”

His eyes rose to hers. “I need blood.”

Mara’s hand went to the knife at her belt.

“Not yours,” he said. “His. The venom is binding to his blood. If I draw it out, I may be able to keep his heart beating until we reach the rise.”

“You’re going to drink from him?”

“I’m going to remove the poison.”

“You expect me to stand there while a vampire feeds on my packmate?”

“I expect you to watch my hands.”

The chamber seemed to contract around them.

Lucian leaned over Tavin. His fangs emerged, white and precise. Mara’s muscles tightened, ready to strike. But he did not bite the wolf’s throat. He cut his own palm with one sharp fang, then pressed the bloodied skin over Tavin’s wound.

A hiss rose from the wolf’s body.

Black vapor curled from the torn flesh.

Lucian’s face tightened. The color in his eyes deepened, turning almost red beneath the moonlight filtering through a crack overhead.

Mara watched his shoulders strain.

“You’re hurting him,” she said.

“He’s alive.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

The venom writhed beneath Lucian’s palm. He pushed harder. Tavin’s claws scraped the floor.

Mara seized Lucian’s wrist. “Stop.”

His head snapped toward her.

For one breath, they were too close. His face was inches from hers, his breath cool against her mouth. She could see the fine fracture in his composure, the hunger held behind his teeth.

“Take your hand away,” she said.

“If I do, he dies.”

“You’re burning him.”

“And if I don’t, the poison reaches his heart.”

Mara looked at Tavin. His eyes had rolled back, but his chest still rose.

Lucian’s voice dropped. “You asked me to save him. Let me.”

The plea was nearly invisible, buried beneath command. It changed something in her.

Not trust. Not yet.

But she released him.

Lucian bent again. The black vapor thickened, pouring from the wound in twisting ribbons. His palm began to smoke. He did not move.

Mara caught his other shoulder to steady him. Beneath her fingers, his body was rigid and cold.

“Why are you helping us?” she asked.

“Because someone crossed the border to poison one of yours.”

“That sounds like a reason to let us blame each other.”

His jaw clenched. “My younger brother vanished three nights ago.”

Mara’s grip loosened.

Lucian stared at the wound. “The coven thinks wolves took him. Your pack thinks he was sent to provoke a war. I found his blood near this ravine.”

“And you came alone?”

“I came before the patrol could.”

“Why?”

His eyes lifted to hers. “Because I know what happens when everyone wants a corpse more than an answer.”

The words stripped the sharpness from the chamber.

Mara had heard that tone once before, from her mother, years ago, when Mara’s older sister had died beyond the ridge. The pack had called it a hunting accident. Mara’s mother had never believed them. She had searched until grief hollowed her voice.

Mara looked at Lucian’s bleeding palm.

“You’re afraid,” she said.

His expression hardened. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re afraid your brother is dead, and more afraid that finding out will prove your people right.”

For the first time, Lucian looked young - not young enough to be harmless, but young enough to be tired of carrying what no one else would touch.

“Yes,” he said.

The admission moved through her with uncomfortable force.

The black vapor thinned. Tavin’s breathing steadied.

Lucian pulled his hand away and swayed.

Mara caught him around the waist.

He froze against her.

His coat was damp from the ravine, and beneath it his body held no warmth, yet she felt every line of him. His hand came to her shoulder, not pushing away, simply anchoring himself.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“Are you warning me?”

“I’m warning myself.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth.

Mara should have stepped back. Instead, her fingers tightened in his coat.

The moment stretched, charged with the scent of blood and wet stone. Then Tavin gave a weak, rasping whine.

Mara released Lucian.

“Get him up,” she said.

His gaze remained on her for one heartbeat longer. “As you command.”

“Don’t make a habit of obeying me.”

“I wouldn’t survive the habit.”

Together they hauled Tavin through the eastern passage. The tunnel ended beneath a shelf of rock overlooking the ravine’s far side. Moonlight spilled across the ground.

Mara saw the pack’s distant lanterns moving along the upper ridge.

Too soon.

“They’re here,” she said.

Lucian looked toward the lights. “Then we leave him hidden until they pass.”

“They’ll track him.”

“Not if we give them another trail.”

Before Mara could ask what he meant, Lucian stepped into the open and drew his knife. He sliced across his forearm, letting several drops fall onto the stones. Then he ran toward the southern slope, leaving a bright line of vampire blood behind him.

Mara stared. “What are you doing?”

“Making your patrol believe I fled with their prisoner.”

“They’ll follow you.”

“Yes.”

“That is not a plan.”

“It is if you want time.”

He turned back. The moon caught his face, making him look carved from winter.

Mara hated the sudden fear in her chest.

“You owe me,” he said.

“I don’t owe vampires anything.”

His smile was faint and tired. “You owe me specifically.”

Then he disappeared into the trees.

Mara waited until the patrol lights shifted south. When the voices faded, she dragged Tavin toward the eastern rise. He was breathing. Alive.

She had found what she came for.

The cost arrived when Tavin’s eyes opened.

His pupils were clouded with red. Beneath the fur at his flank, the poisoned wound had sealed - but a mark now burned across it, a black sigil ringed in fresh blood.

Mara knelt, touching the edge without touching the skin.

The symbol matched the one carved into the old border stones.

Behind her, somewhere beyond the trees, a vampire was running with her patrol at his heels.

Mara looked south.

She had entered the forest hunting an enemy.

Now she owed Lucian Vale a life - and had no idea whether the debt would save her pack or destroy it.

End of chapter one. 29 more chapters in the full book.