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“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t you dare die on me. Not yet.”
I gathered him in my arms. A crowd gathered behind me. I laid Anson’s head carefully on my lap. His snow-white fur was stained red with blood.
He was cold. So cold. I touched my forehead to his, buried my fingers in his thick fur, feeling for a heartbeat.
It was there. Faint. Erratic.
“Help!” I shouted.
He began to shift.
“No. Anson. Be still. Don’t try to shift. Don’t try to move.”
He opened his eyes. Groaning, his bones cracked, his muscles bulged. Slowly, agonizingly, he shifted. First, his fur turned jet black. His eyes glowed red, then dimmed to blue. One by one, his deep scars sprang out, marring his flesh as it re-knit.
He was X again. And I was right back there, all those years ago and nineteen years old. He was the wounded stray I’d tried to take in. That broken boy who’d taught me dark pleasures and needs that consumed me.
“X,” I whispered. His curse and mine.
My heart swelled with love and grief as I felt him dying.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you too.”
And then I kissed him. Slow. Deep. Lasting forever. I poured all that I was into it. The light. The dark. The pain. The salvation.
And then I let him go.
“Tempest!” Dr. Olivet raced toward me. Those wolves who had tasted Anson’s blood had all shifted. One by one, they became steady on their feet, their sickness eaten away by the miracle of Anson’s curse. I loved them too. But I hated what they had taken through no fault of their own.
“Oh, no,” Dr. Olivet said. “Don’t you dare die on me, you twisted bastard.”
She dropped to her knees, holding that green and gold glittering syringe.
“Tempest,” she said. “I think I know a way.” She didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, she looked skyward, put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill, deafening whistle.
A moment later, the darkest shadow fell over us. The wind picked up, blowing my hair back.
“Xander,” I said.
A mammoth dragon blotted out the sky.
“Xander!” I shouted. He landed a few hundred yards away from us. Two women slid off his back. His wife Shae and their daughter Cassia. Cassia was mated to an Alpha from the Devane pack. They had been the ones to supply us with their most precious blood during the thick of the war.
“Hurry!” Dr. Olivet shouted. Xander shifted. He rushed forward, flames trailing behind him.
“Can you heal him?” I gasped.
“No!” X croaked. “Let me go, Tempest. Let me do this one thing right.”
“There will be no martyrs today,” Dr. Olivet said. “Not on my watch.”
Xander stepped forward. He’d opened a vein with one razor-sharp talon. He let a single fat drop of blood fall on X’s lips. X choked and sputtered. His chest heaved. He shifted back and forth. He was Anson. He was X. The dark wolf. The white wolf. Then finally, he settled and became something new.
“There’s no time to waste,” Dr. Olivet said. “Can you walk?”
Anson nodded. I hooked an arm under him. He shrugged me off and got to his feet.
“Inside!” Dr. Olivet yelled. “Quickly. Pat? Gather the rest of the packs. Get the stronger ones to carry the weaker ones. But get them here. Line them up. I’ll dose them one by one, starting with the sickest.”
