Blood on Silk

Elena didn't scream.

She did something better.

She drove her heel into the attacker's instep, twisted in his grip, and slammed her elbow into his jaw. The blade nicked her neck, a hot line of pain, but she was already moving. Her free hand caught the charm at her throat.

It burned like a coal.

"Duck," said a voice, very calm.

She dropped.

A black shape tore through the dark. There was a roar. A body hit the wall, and silence followed.

Light flickered back on.

The ballroom was chaos. Tables overturned. Guests screaming. Guards pouring in. And in the center of it, Adrian Blackthorn, half-shifted, his hands clawed and his eyes blazing gold, stood over three unconscious men.

Then he saw Elena.

Her gown was torn. A thin line of blood ran down her neck, soaking into the blue silk. She stood on shaking legs with a shard of glass in her fist.

He crossed the floor in two strides.

"You're bleeding."

"It's a scratch."

"It's blood."

"Adrian..."

He caught her face in both hands, tilted her chin, and examined the cut with the desperate care of a man defusing a bomb. His hands trembled.

"I told you five minutes."

"You took three."

"It was still too long."

"I had a charm."

"It wasn't enough."

"Adrian." She put her hand over his. "I'm all right."

"You're not." His voice cracked. "I felt it. The second that blade touched you, I felt it in my own throat."

Her breath caught.

He pulled her into his chest, hard, one arm banded around her waist, his face in her hair. She could feel his heartbeat slamming against her ribs. She could feel the fear pouring through the bond.

"I can't lose you again," he whispered. "I can't."

"You won't."

"Promise me."

"I can't promise that."

"Then promise you'll fight to stay."

"That," she said, "I can do."

He held her a moment longer, then pulled back, scanning the room with deadly calm.

"Lucas."

"Here." Lucas stood at his shoulder, bloodied. "Three attackers, all dead before we could question them. The same venom as the rogues. And Alpha Rowan has vanished."

"Of course he has."

"There's something else." Lucas's voice dropped. "The blade that cut her. The lab's looking at it now. It's coated with something."

"Poison?"

"A memory suppressant." Lucas hesitated. "The same compound they found in your blood from five years ago."

Elena felt the floor tilt.

"But I'm all right," she said. "I feel fine."

Even as she said it, she realized that wasn't true. The edges of the room were softening. Sounds were far away. Her knees buckled.

"Elena!"

Adrian caught her before she hit the ground.

"Stay with me," he said. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

"It's so cold."

"Elena."

"There's snow..." Her voice slurred. Her eyelids fluttered. "Someone's singing..."

She sagged against him, and he lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing.

"Get the doctor," he snarled. "Now."

The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was Adrian's voice, ragged and broken, saying her name over and over like a prayer.

Then, from somewhere deep in her drugged mind, a different name rose to her lips.

She whispered it into his shoulder.

"Cassian."