When Chaos rules, only the fiercest love survives.
Bright City is growing increasingly discordant. Something dark and treacherous is stalking Rabb and Brant, creating havoc in both of their worlds. The Vampire Council is putting pressure on Brant to become an elder, using Rabb as bait to force him to comply. All the while, Rabb battles deadly fractures in pack alliances and fights his own personal vampire skirmish.
Will the packs fight an internal war to replace Rabb? Will the vampires force Brant to choose sides? War is on the horizon, and it might not only ravage the supes in Bright City, but also devastate the human population living ignorant and helpless among them.
Brant stood on the stone patio of the mayor’s mansion and looked up at the stars. He held a warmed glass of pig’s blood in his hand and his thoughts were scattered, filled with all the problems he needed to resolve.
The moon was full and bright, casting a warm glow over the rolling, wooded grounds. Beyond the light, moving silently through the shadows, Rabb’s men were on constant watch for trouble.
Trouble was something he and Rabb had in abundance. And it was coming from so many different directions, it was hard to focus on any one issue long enough to solve it.
Foremost on his mind was Rabb. Despite agreeing to join the council to protect his lover, Brant didn’t trust the vamps to keep their word. He’d witnessed too many broken off conversations…too many glances across space when the council discussed relations with the shifter community.
The members of the council were up to something.
A soft whistle throbbed on the night and Brant’s gaze slid toward the sound, his senses sharpening. He focused his preternatural vision in the direction of the sound and the shadows brightened, showing…nothing.
No guard, no intruder.
Brant settled his glass onto the table and started forward, his built-in alarm system screaming. He sharpened his hearing as he approached the spot where the guard should have been. The dull thud, thud, thud of a laboring heartbeat filled his hearing. Hard on the heels of that damaged heartbeat was the sweet, metallic aroma of freshly spilled blood.
Brant’s pulse picked up, his fingernails lengthening to claws as his vamp came out in a big way. His cock twitched as the blood trail summoned him closer and all sense of caution slipped away.
Gone was cautious, thoughtful humanity. Brant became the predator searching for his next meal.
He stepped under the trees and saw the telltale glistening of blood on the grass. The aroma beckoned him…drawing him forward even as a tiny portion of his mind screamed for him to stop and retreat.
He slammed the door closed on that bit of conscious thought and dropped to his knees on the grass, inch-long fangs dripping saliva as he opened his mouth to growl his need.
A low groan had his head whipping around and he shot to his feet, his preternatural gaze sliding upward. A large body hung, limp and bleeding, over a high branch. The wind shifted the smaller branches around the injured man and the moon showed through. The silvery light wrapped the bleeding shifter in an aura, making him appear to glow.
Brant growled again, his claws digging holes in his palms as a small part of him screamed in warning. The shifter might as well have been wearing a neon sign with Brant’s name on it. His blood was a drug Brant found impossible to resist.
Yet, Brant had just enough humanity left to let a single thought slide in to nudge aside the ravening need.
Someone had set a trap for him.