Page 52 of Crave

“Yeah, we want it. What did the undeads hit Lacey with, and who’s behind it?”

“The vamps are calling this Project Eclipse.” London shoved half-gloved fingers into her pockets. “My intel is sketchy. The best we have to go on is that we think the bloodsuckers were originally trying to develop a drug that would spike viral loads in our people. Something that would drive werewolves mad at the full moon and cause mass chaos in the process. Maybe even be the catalyst that turned some of them permanently feral.”

I swore. “If that happened—”

She threw a glance over one shoulder. “End game. But instead, the opposite occurred.”

“They somehow found a way to suppress the effects of the virus.”

“Right. We know males carry a higher viral count than females and that everyone’s numbers spike each month at the full moon. This biologic agent stops the lycan virus from over-replicating. Basically, it suppresses viral load so that a shifter under the influence of the drug would be temporarily unable to shift, unable to heal, and unable to properly defend themselves in a fight.”

“For all intents and purposes, they’d be human.” I thought back to the last few weeks, the vulnerability of being cut off from my wolf—

“Or close enough.” Dallas blew on his cupped hands. “They deploy this in the middle of a battle—"

“They’d wipe us out. No question.” London scanned the crowd. “We believe there are three remaining vampire covens coordinating Project Eclipse, one out of Houston, and two others north of Dallas.”

“Who’s your source?”

“Like I’d tell you.” She slapped a thumb drive into Dallas’s hand. “Tell your brother he owes me.”

The band began tuning, sheet music flapping under clothespins as a gust of wind shivered across the field, blowing dirt and dry grass into our eyes.

I stared London down. “Your people sold us out to the vamps. Why should we believe anything you say?”

“Okay, first. That was a separatist faction within my pack who’d been hoping to overthrow me ever since I took over as Alpha from my father last year.”

Dallas shook his head. “You were Alpha. Everything that went down in your territory—”

“I’ve been banished from my pack and exiled by the Council.” London Blake bared her teeth despite their foot of height difference. “You really don’t want to mansplain pack law to me right now, pretty boy. It happened on my watch. I paid the price and so did my people. That’s how it works. But it doesn’t make me a traitor. And you can believe me or not. But most of my pack wants reform. Whatever the undeads hit her with didn’t come from us. I guarantee it. And if you’re thinking they could have developed something that complex on their own—"

My blood ran cold. “Wait. What are you saying?”

There was a shout and another group of teens crashed into us from behind. I stumbled, nearly tripping over the wrinkly old basset hound I’d seen earlier, who glared up at me disapprovingly from beneath her light-up antlers.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, searching my pockets for doggie cookies.

When I looked up, London Blake was gone.

Cursing, I stood on my toes, searching the crowd, millions of multicolored lights swirling around us in a spiraling haze. Dallas’s hands caught me before I could fall.

“You okay?”

“She’s gone.”

“Yeah. Least we got what we came for.”

I buried my face in his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of laundry detergent and woodsmoke. His fingers curled into my hair, stroking the nape of my neck. Gently, oh so gently, he tipped my chin so I was staring up into his eyes under the warm glow of the Christmas tree.

“I love you, Lacey.”

My heart took off, fluttering like a trapped moth in the cage of my ribs. Dallas leaned in, whispering my name a breath from my lips, thumbs grazing my cheekbones as if he were afraid of breaking me, touching me in a way I had never before that moment realized I desperately wanted to be touched. Like I was absolutely, exquisitely adored.

My eyes fluttered closed. Our lips met in a kiss that tasted of hot chocolate and woodsmoke, of snowflakes, Christmas trees and hope. And for the first time, I pictured what it would be like to come to a park like this on a cold winter night years from now, to hold hands as we sipped hot chocolate and twirled beneath a tree strung with lights.

In a future I’d never allowed myself to wish for, a tow-headed boy and an impish girl chased each other around an island crowded with mixing bowls in a warm, sunny kitchen. I captured them before they could get away, trading hugs for sticky frosting covered spoons. There were humid summer nights with the four of us in cutoffs and flip flops spent making homemade ice cream on a wide back porch while a midnight black cat stalked fireflies through the dewy grass. Dallas, barefoot and grinning, blew raspberries into our daughter’s cheek while she shrieked, the two of them spinning in dizzying circles. The boy clutched a football, grasping at the tail of his father’s shirt. All of us laughing, happy.

And as the kiss deepened and the band began to play Skating from A Charlie Brown Christmas, I silently wished we could stay like this forever, just the two of us. Because for the first time, I could see a future I wanted. A future I never wanted to let go of. I wanted all of it, including the memories Dallas Caldwell and I had yet to make.