Cash didn’t speak, just looked over the beasts, his eyes wide and staring . . . and his mind probably reeling to figure out how he was going to manipulate this to his benefit.

Magic flashed, and he threw up a hand to shield his eyes, then watched as John and Marcus began the transformation back into human form. And just as with Beyo and Zane, it was an ugly process.

“What the fuck have you done to my people?” Cash asked when the shifters were revealed again, pale and sickly and thin.

“Obviously nothing,” Connor said. “They’ve done this all on their own.”

But Cash had made his decision, picked his path, and wasn’t going to be swayed from it. He strode toward Connor, fury in his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Connor said and, when Cash reached him, pounded his fist into Cash’s face.

“Good show,” Alexei said as Cash hit the ground. “That was a nice one.”

Everett tried to step forward in Cash’s stead and make his own run at Connor, but Gibson held his arms back.

“No, thanks, old man. You’ve had your chance.”

Connor nodded with approval. “This is the hell you have wrought in this clan. The destruction, all because you were so goddamned determined to hold on to power you hadn’t earned. Those days are over.”

“Over,” Georgia agreed, stepping beside them. “This has gone on too long,” she said to the growing crowd, over gasps and shock as they surveyed the damage.

“You have no power—,” Everett began, but Georgia just held up a hand.

“Save it. Given that you’ve been faced with indisputable evidence the hybrids exist, they’re deadly, and they’re members of your clan, I think we can safely say that Elisa’s actions were reasonable and she acted in order to save Carlie’s life in the best way available to her. The only person she needs absolution from is Carlie.” She looked at me. “You have our apologies.” She shifted her gaze to Connor. “As do you.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” Connor said. “And, Georgia, you’re family. But you all wrought this. None of you are innocent. You knew Loren was a predator of the worst kind, and you ignored the victims. You knew something was hurting your people, but you ignored the evidence. That’s unacceptable. The North American Central Pack hereby names Georgia McAllister as leader of this clan. She’s in charge unless or until the clan votes otherwise.”

“You can’t fucking do that,” Cash said, climbing to his feet. “We don’t release you from the Obsideo. You’re still obliged to us.”

But Connor’s eyes stayed bright. “Cash, you are an idiot. When you claim Obsideo, you have to specify the problem. Otherwise, you leave the choice up to the person who’s obligated, which would be me. The problem in this clan is its leadership. And I’ve just solved that problem.”

As if the magic somehow agreed with him, it released its hold, power spilling through the crowd like water through a broken dam, swirling around our feet.

Connor turned to me, his smile satisfied and smug.

“Connor Keene,” I said. “That little bit of strategy was positively vampiric.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.”

“Oh,” I said with silvered eyes, “it absolutely was.”

“Good,” he said, then pulled me toward him. “Let’s try a little more vampire drama.”

He kissed me with abandon, let his magic mingle with the eddies of power at our feet, let the others feel the power, the attraction, the emotion. And when he pulled back, his breathing was hard, and there was a mix of amusement and desire and alpha confidence in his eyes.

“Aw, keep going,” Alexei shouted. “I’m recording this.”

We turned to look his way, found him holding up his screen.

“Why would you do that?” Connor asked.

“Because it was a good kiss, and someone will pay good money for the footage.”

“Alexei.” Connor’s voice was flat.

They watched each other for a second, and Alexei smiled first. “Because the Pack will want to know who she is and who you are. She may not be a shifter. But I think they’ll like what they see.”

I arched a brow. “That’s the best compliment I’m likely to ever get from you, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Alexei said.

“Then I’ll take it. And thank you.”

His cheeks actually pinked a little.

Blue and red lights flashed as Sheriff Paulson’s vehicle pulled into the parking lot. He got out, looked around. “What the hell is happening out here?”

“We’re just visitors,” Connor said, and we limped back to the cabin. “Talk to Cash. He’s got all the answers.”

EPILOGUE

I woke to a single message, the one I’d been hoping for—and dreading at the same time: SHE’S AWAKE. That was the bat signal, the green light for Connor and me to drive back to the coven’s house.

I was nervous about the trip. Not sure of the expectations, of my beloved rules. Not certain what I’d feel for the girl I’d changed so profoundly. And I didn’t relish the idea of playing politics with Ronan.

“It’s like he’s playing at being a vampire,” I said when we were in Georgia’s SUV and driving toward the house. We’d decided it would be safer, all things considered, to take a vehicle that offered more protection than his bike.

Connor glanced at me. “What?”

“Sorry. Finishing a conversation I started in my head. He talks about doing what’s necessary to keep his people safe, but when I made a hard choice to protect someone—in the way only vampires can protect them—he accused me of disloyalty. Of threatening his kingdom. Isn’t that hypocrisy?”

“I imagine he’s not well-versed on how well-socialized vampires behave. Not as isolated as they are.”

“Maybe,” I said. But I guessed that was just one of the many dysfunctions caused by the coven’s isolation.

We pulled beneath the covered drive, and I looked up at the dark and imposing doors.

One of the vampires who’d accompanied Ronan to the resort opened the door, escorted us into the house.

I didn’t want to go back inside, to feel oppressed by red velvet and dark wood—or the emotional weight that layered over it. But I recognized that feeling for what it was now. It was the magic that had been laid down, frosted over the house and seeping into the furniture and fabric, designed to dull the senses of humans and keep their questions at a minimum.

“The spellseller did this,” I said to Ronan, who waited in the foyer.

He wore a dark suit today with a low collar over a V-neck shirt. “Yes,” he said, nodding at me, at Connor. “To protect us.”

“And are you better for it?”

He looked at me for a long time. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said by way of answer, and moved to the staircase.

Despite their obvious age, the treads were silent as we walked upstairs. Perfectly built or magically honed? Their inconsistencies wiped away or the sounds muffled?

Light shifted as we walked beneath the dome and rays of moonlight that filtered through the iron bars that held the glass in place.

We reached the landing, took another impeccably paneled hallway, and then turned into a room on the right. It was simpler by far than the rest of the house. A small rectangle of a room, with a window opposite the wall, a bureau, a desk, a small four-poster bed. Moonlight streamed through the window, cutting across the dark furniture.

The room was lit by a Tiffany-style lamp, or maybe an original, whose glass shade matched the style of the dome and cast soft gold-tipped light.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, a burgundy T-shirt over dark leggings. Her feet were bare. A book was in her lap, her gaze focused as her eyes tracked the lines of print.

Carlie looked up. She was still pale, but that was an improvement over the gray pallor she’d worn when I’d last seen her. She looked stronger—not just healthier, although, being immortal and now self-healing, she almost certainly was. But a little more sculpted. Cheekbones slightly rounder, muscles slightly tighter. It happened to most who were transformed—bone and muscle rearranging to make the package just a little more beautiful. All the easier to capture a wary human.

“Carlie,” Ronan said quietly. “You have a visitor.”

He stepped to the side as Carlie looked up, revealing me behind him. I made myself meet her eyes and braced myself for anger, for hatred, for the lash of words—and, depending on how angry she was, for fangs.

Her eyes went huge, went silver, and she leapt off the bed, was in front of me before I’d even considered grabbing a weapon.

She was fast. So fast.

And she wrapped her arms around me, embraced me with fierce strength she probably didn’t yet know she had.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I— Okay,” I said, and patted her back, could practically feel my bones creaking beneath her embrace. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

“Let’s give them a minute,” Connor said behind me, and I could hear the relief in his voice.

Ronan opened his mouth to speak, probably to ask Carlie if she was all right to be left alone with me. But he held his peace, probably when he saw the expression on her face. They left us alone, closed the door behind them.

She stepped back, linked her fingers together. “I’m sorry. You don’t even really know me, and I’m probably just overwhelming you.”

“It’s okay. I’m—I’m a little surprised you aren’t furious with me.”

Her brows popped up. “Why would I be mad at you?”

What sounded like genuine confusion in her voice loosened some of the tension in my chest; bindings of fear unbuckled.

“Because I changed you—or started the process—without your consent.”

She snorted. “My consent was bleeding all over the freaking ground. I knew, when that thing picked me up, that I was a goner. I could feel it kind of”—she looked away, emotion welling in her eyes—“bite through me. There was so much pain. He was running, and every time his feet hit the ground, it got worse. And then I got cold, and I got tired, and I felt like I was floating. He jerked and put me down, and then you were there.”