POV Natalie
Who the hell was that?
My brain’s doing this rapid-fire assessment thing while my body stays frozen against Avery. Wolf scent. Definitely wolf. Male. Old enough to have serious authority vibes. But when I glance at Avery to see if this is some elaborate setup she’s been planning, she looks like an actual corpse.
White as fresh snow. Eyes wide with what might be terror.
“Björn Bloodfang,” she whispers, and her voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere very far away.
Oh. So this is the psychopath she’s supposed to marry.
He steps into the moonlight like he’s making a grand entrance at his own coronation. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of smile that probably makes children hide behind their mothers. Everything about him screams apex predator who enjoys the hunt a little too much.
“I didn’t know you were into the enemy, Avery,” he says, voice smooth as poisoned honey. “How… progressive of you.”
“What do you want, Björn?” Avery’s found her voice, but it’s tight with barely controlled panic.
“What do I want?” He laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. “I want my bride not to be kissing the enemy. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m feeling a bit jealous.”
My skin crawls. The possessiveness in his voice is nauseating, like he’s talking about a piece of property instead of a person.
“She’s not your bride,” I snap before my brain can stop my mouth. “She’s not anybody’s fucking property.”
His attention shifts to me, and those eyes… Jesus. They’re the kind of empty that suggests the lights are on but nobody decent is home.
“And you are?”
“The vampire who’s about to ruin your entire night if you don’t back the fuck off.”
“Natalie, don’t—” Avery starts, but Björn cuts her off.
“Natalie. How delightfully… intimate.” He steps closer, and I can smell the violence on him like cologne. “Tell me, little bloodsucker, do you think Avery mentioned me? Her future husband? The one who’s going to teach her exactly what her body is for?”
Every instinct I have screams danger, but I’m too pissed off to care. “Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Björn, leave her alone.” Avery moves slightly in front of me, which is both touching and completely insane. “This is between us.”
“Oh, darling.” His smile gets wider, more predatory. “This stopped being between us the moment you decided to whore yourself out to our enemies.”
The word hits Avery like a physical blow. I see her flinch, see something break behind her eyes.
And that’s when I completely lose my shit.
“You piece of—”
Movement in the trees. Multiple shapes emerging from shadows. My enhanced senses kick into overdrive, cataloging threats.
Five. No, seven. Definitely more coming.
We’re surrounded.
“Fuck,” I breathe, because tactical assessment has never been my strong suit, but even I can do basic math. Two versus an entire pack of bloodthirsty wolves equals very dead vampire and werewolf.
“Surprise,” Björn says, like he’s announcing a birthday party instead of an execution. “Did you really think I came alone to collect my wayward bride?”
Avery’s breathing has gone shallow, rapid. Fight-or-flight kicking in hard.
“Run,” she whispers to me.
“Like hell.”
“Natalie—”
“Not happening.”
Because apparently I’ve decided that dying with her is preferable to living without her, which is either the most romantic thing I’ve ever done or the stupidest. Probably both.
“How touching,” Björn drawls. “Young love. Tragic, really, how it’s about to end.”
He signals his pack. They start closing in, moving with the coordinated precision of predators who’ve done this before.
I shift into combat mode, every muscle coiling. Avery does the same beside me, and for a moment we’re perfectly synchronized. Two creatures who know they’re about to die fighting.
“Stay close,” I mutter.
“Always.”
The first wolf lunges.
Everything explodes into violence. Claws and fangs and the metallic taste of blood. I lose track of individual attackers—it’s just motion and pain and the desperate need to keep moving.
Avery shifts mid-fight, her wolf form tearing through two attackers like they’re made of paper. Beautiful and terrifying and absolutely fucking magnificent.
But there are too many of them.
I see Björn circling us like a shark, not participating, just watching. Enjoying the show.
A massive grey wolf slams into my side, and I go down hard. Ribs crack. Vision blurs. But I roll away from claws that would have opened my throat, come up swinging.
“Natalie!”
Avery’s voice, but it sounds wrong. Desperate.
I spin around to see three wolves dragging her down, silver chains appearing from nowhere. She’s fighting, but silver burns werewolves. Weakens them.
“No!”
I lunge toward her, but something massive hits me from behind. The world tilts sideways.
Pain explodes across the back of my skull. Stars burst behind my eyes.
The last thing I see before everything goes black is Björn standing over Avery, that predatory smile wider than ever.
“Sweet dreams, little bloodsucker.”