Twice Tempted: Between Two Alphas (Mia and Cameron)

Chapter 86

Chapter Eight-Six

MIA

I open my eyes.

There are wraiths around me. A circle of them. They’re hungry and mindless and drawing closer.

I’m alone.

No. Nala is with me.

I take comfort in that. I may not have a pack, but she is always with me.

We snarl. From NôvelDrama.Org.

The wraiths draw closer.

Then another being descends.

We’re in the woods. By the scent of the pines, I’d say somewhere in Wyoming. The grasses are knee-

high and dry like straw. There is a hum of beetles and other insects. It’s just after sunset, and the sky is

still light despite the sun sinking below the horizon.

This creature…smells like death. Not rotten or foul, just old and vacant. Like the inside of a crypt or the

recesses of a library.

He’s huge. Easily six foot four or taller. Built like Cameron or Eric. Wide across the shoulders and long

in the legs. His arms are so muscled they’re held out a bit from his body. His hair and eyes are black.

His skin is bronzed and his features are hewn in strong lines. I’ve heard the cliches of statues and gods

and celebrities, but they’d all fit. For the symmetry. There is a perfection to this man that is otherworldly.

He approaches one wraith. A blonde. She’s tall and willowy. Beautiful. Her eyes are red and crazed

with the need for blood. But she doesn’t attack.

She stays stone-still as this man punches his hand through her chest. He squeezes her heart in his

huge fist, exploding it.

She shrieks and then collapses.

He moves to the next wraith. It too stands eerily still. It’s a male, maybe twenty-five. A handsome guy

with short spiky hair. The guy shares the blonde’s fate.

Around the circle he goes.

Killing indiscriminately.

As each wraith falls. I can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

They weren’t born this way.

They were made.

Created by this very master vampire.

His actions are akin to a father killing his own children.

It’s cruel.

He approaches the last. She’s maybe thirty. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Where many of the other wraiths

were tall and beautiful, this woman is average. She’s shorter, full-figured. Her face is pretty in a simple

way.

Before he can rupture her chest, she glances over her shoulder at him. Whatever trance he’d put them

in, she seems able to break it, at least temporarily.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He pauses. Then nods.

Rather than rip out her heart, his fangs drop. They’re huge. Easily an inch long and capable of

shredding her skin. He bites her neck, gently, if a creature like this is even capable of such a thing.

He drains her. I watch the life leave her body and count each last pulse of her heart. Then he drops her

to the ground and kneels beside her. He cuts open his own throat with a slash of his hand and forces

her mouth open and against him.

“Drink!” he commands.

She’s motionless. A rag doll beside this massive man.

“Now.” He presses her face harder against his skin.

And she must, because the pulse returns, followed by another and another, until her heart is pounding.

She is reborn.

Was it her gratitude that swayed him?

Or had she been thanking him, thinking he meant to kill her as he did the other wraiths? Was she

hoping for an end to that soulless existence?

I want to move, but I’m frozen.

My own heart is pounding and I feel a sense of urgency take hold, like I need to escape this place.

Then I scent them. Wolves.

Healmsworth pack.

They sweep in, rushing the master vampire and colliding with him in the center of the clearing. Wolves

are punched and thrown. The vampire swings and sends what looks to be Michail and Jace flying.

The woman, though ‘turned’ is weak and lies there amid the fighting.

Cam’s in his lycan form and he dives onto the vampire, refusing to let go.

The vampire moves with inhuman speed, launching him and Cam into the air before flipping and biting

so that Cam bears the impact when they land.

And still Cam doesn’t relent.

He bites into the creature’s neck, mauling the male.

His name is Cassian. I don’t know how I know this, I just know.

And he’s ancient.

He bleeds and bleeds and Cam roars, his claws digging into the vampire’s heart. He thrusts in his other

hand and cracks Cassian’s ribcage like splitting a melon.

Cam feasts on the heart.

“Blood is life.”

It’s Cassian. His head turns and his eyes lock with mine. He’s speaking… to me?

I blink. It’s not this vampire on the ground and split in half.

It’s Cameron.

He’s dying. His body’s torn apart by this master vampire, wraiths and wolves lie dead on the ground

around him.

It wasn’t an attack–it was a war.

I blink again hoping the tableau will change once more.

“No! Cameron! Get up!”

But he’s unmoving and his eyes glaze.

Cassian holds his hand over Cam’s heart. “Choose.”

The command triggers something. I gasp.

Only there is no air.

I’m underwater. Thrashing. Choking.

Water is in my mouth and lungs.

I kick and swim for the surface–I hope it’s the surface.

My final thoughts are of my children as my body convulses and the darkness takes hold.