“Oh?” Lyra asked, trying to ignore the adrenaline now coursing through her blood. “No way. That’s too weird.”

“Oh, I don’t know. They can be pretty enough.” Teresa chuckled. “It’s the rest of them that’s the problem, personality especially.” She stood, stretching a little. “Come on, I’ll show you. At least then you’ll know where to look it up the next time you decide to fleece somebody else with that bet.”

Teresa led her into the interior of the Room of Histories, a dimly lit cave of a place filled with tall bookshelves that were stuffed with enormous, parchment-filled tomes. They were meticulously organized, and Lyra had come to learn, over the years, that Teresa’s encyclopedic knowledge encompassed the contents of every single volume of the pack’s history. It had saved her butt on a school paper a time or two.

She hoped that knowledge would do the same now.

They headed down the third row, which contained tomes that were quite old. The bindings, though kept oiled, were dull, and the parchment within had grown stiff and brittle over the years. Only Teresa was allowed to touch these, Lyra knew. It would be too detrimental to the tomes to allow any other hands on them. They stopped in the middle of the row, and Teresa scanned the shelves, murmuring to herself. After a few seconds, she selected a book, more ragged than some, that looked singed as if from a fire on the lower right corner.

“Here we are,” she said. “Fourteen ninety-five. Not a happy year, as you might guess from the burn marks. Our camp was burned, half the pack was slaughtered when we were blamed for an outbreak of plague, and the Thorn was introduced to the concept of vampire-werewolf mating.” She set the tome down on one of the long, low reading tables set in the wide middle row and opened to a place about three-quarters of the way through. Her hands, small and quick, turned pages with infinite care. Lyra watched, fascinated. She’d always loved to watch Teresa work, even though she knew that, in her own hands, this job would be a disaster. She could just see herself accidentally crunching up page after page…

“So… how did it go?” Lyra asked, moving beside Teresa to scan the pages of flowing script. The wolves, unlike nobility at the time, had always written in the vernacular, and Lyra could read the writing well enough, even if many of the words and wording were odd.

Teresa shot her an arch look. “About as well as you’d expect, since it’s still forbidden. This was the root of it, here. A she-wolf of the Thorn, Elizabeth Thatcher, got involved with a vamp from the Rakshasa. Those were lion-shifters, actually,” she said, considering. “Think I heard they’d been hunted to extinction by some dynasty or other, but who knows? And they think we’re violent. Anyway, they went off together, tripped the night fantastic, and discovered that you can, indeed, hitch a wolf and a vamp together. There’s a little poem about it here, see?” She chuckled. “Always had wolves who enjoyed writing in verse back then.”

Lyra leaned in to read the section that Teresa tapped with her finger.

“When werewolf’s bite the vampire takes,” she murmured, eyes skimming the short passage. It was a short rhyme, rather pretty… and immensely informative. At least now she understood why she had only a faint mark and Jaden, at least as far as she knew, had none. They hadn’t finished the ritual. And if she had anything to say about it they weren’t going to… though the words describing the simple process of attaching to a vampire forever caused a strange fluttering in her stomach, and what felt like fireworks shimmering their way through her blood.

It was possible. The pairing had been done.

It could be done again, if it was allowed. Which of course it wasn’t. In fact, not allowed was a kind way to put it. But… but…

Her mind spun as she tried to absorb it. She wasn’t the first! There had been others like her, falling into the arms of a vampire, only to find—

“Shame what happened. The vamp had drained ten wolves before they caught him, and then they took him and his mate and…” She trailed off, made a face, and closed the book.

“Never mind,” Teresa said. “They also never spared the gory details. And on that note, I think I need to get back to my ménage. My brain needs cleaning. What was it with medieval times and metal spikes?”

Lyra blanched, trying not to imagine what had been done to the ill-fated lovers. “Yeah. My question’s answered. I do not want to know.”

“Fair enough,” Teresa said with a gentle smile. Uh-oh, Lyra thought. She knew what was coming.

“You know, Gerry and I have been talking a lot about you lately. And I don’t mean to poke at you, Lyra, but… are you sure you want to go through with the Proving, honey? I know you and your cousin don’t get along, but I was saying to Gerry, my cousin is in the Pack of the Shadowed Path, and her son would be perfect for you… a born leader, I always said, and what a match you’d make, running the Thorn!”

I’m backing away slowly, Lyra thought, trying not to give Teresa her patented Death Glare. She knew the woman meant well. She really did. But one more of these conversations and her head was going to burst into flames. Probably while she was shouting, “Actually, I’ve already got a mate, kinda sorta! He’s a vampire! Talk about leadership qualities, right?”

Instead, she managed a smile as she headed for the stairs as quickly as she could walking backward. She found it funny, in a sick sort of way, when she realized that all of Jaden’s instruction had helped her in that department.

“I appreciate it, Teresa, but I’ve got to go. Thanks for the help, even if I’m still out fifty bucks!”

“Okay, honey. You just let me know if you change your mind,” Teresa called, heading back to her desk and the smoking-hot book.

Not likely, Lyra thought. But along with the continuing fear that her mark would be seen, she felt some measure of relief. This was only a half mark, really, another burden she could, and would, bear alone. All was not lost as long as she kept her hands to herself the rest of the time Jaden was there. More importantly, as long as he kept his teeth to himself.

She only wished she didn’t feel regret… not from having been with Jaden, but because she had tasted something with him she would never forget, and would never be able to have again.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

OKAY, NORMALLY I wouldn’t ask, but… is everything okay? I mean, as okay as it gets for a vampire. I’m not sure what your baseline is, but you just seem… off.”

Jaden turned his head from watching a raucous game of what looked like full-body contact pool to look at his unlikely companion. He was glad for the invitation, if surprised. Lyra had begged off training with him tonight. He’d found it hard to argue—she didn’t look well at all. Her eyes, especially, had seemed glassy and almost haunted. She’d pleaded a headache.

But from the way she’d shied from his touch, he wondered. He could deal with almost anything it might be, unless she’d decided that touching him had been a mistake. Because rather than slaking his thirst for her, being with Lyra had increased it a thousand-fold. The prickly she-wolf had gotten under his skin, inside his head. Whatever she had done to him, he wanted more.

He forced himself to focus on the man speaking to him, instead of the ghost of the woman prowling restlessly through his mind.

“You’re not worried because I’m pale, are you? We’ve been over this. The pale skin is not a bug, it’s a feature.”

Simon Dale snorted softly and dug into the basket of fries that graced the middle of the small, battered table they were sharing. He dipped a fry in the bowl of gravy that had come with the appetizer, then popped it in his mouth.

“No, though I don’t know why more vamps aren’t into self-tanner. You’d be less obvious. No, I’m just asking because despite your triumphant ripping up of those Ptolemy last night, Lyra’s been weird all day and now there’s you with the moody. Well,” he smirked, “I mean, I think you’re moodier than usual. It’s hard to tell.”

Jaden’s tone was acid. “Funny.”

Simon grinned. “I’m here all week.”

Jaden still hadn’t figured out what this invitation was about. Simon Dale was hard not to like. He was a little like an overgrown puppy: amusing, slightly rude, and prone to eating everything in sight. He had also been the first member of the pack to actively seek out Jaden’s company, which made Jaden inclined to like him just on general principle. But still, the offer of a drink tonight was undoubtedly about more than friendly conversation. For the moment, however, he played along.

“I’m not moody, I’m a vampire. And as for Lyra, I don’t know. When I left, she was locked away nursing a headache. If you mean something beyond that, you should probably ask her.”

Simon’s smile faded. “I would, if I thought I’d get a straight answer. She hasn’t wanted to talk to me about much of anything since you showed up, no offense.” He contemplatively swirled another fry in the gravy. “I probably shouldn’t have pushed it when her father tried to get her to marry me.”

Jaden gagged on the small sip of beer he’d just taken, then started coughing. Simon’s lips twisted into a cynical smile.

“Yeah, that was basically her reaction too,” he said.

Jaden’s voice sounded strained and slightly hoarse when he finally got his power of speech back. “You were supposed to get married?”

Simon shrugged. “It was more of a suggestion. A strong suggestion. You’ve seen Dorien when he wants something. If Lyra wasn’t just as stubborn as he is, I’d be wearing a ring by now, barely knowing what hit me.”

Jaden sat watching Simon’s hangdog expression, and he wondered just how unhappy the wolf would have been about that. Something curdled and unpleasant settled into the pit of his stomach. He tried to remind himself that wolves’ ways were much different from vampires’, that Lyra was likely to end up with some wolf or other eventually.