Page 171 of Vasmora

Lothare craned his neck toward the wolf. “It’s the only way?”

“I don’t think he’ll let me near him otherwise.”

“It’ll render him powerless, but if it saves his life ….” From his hip, he produced the blade that Drefan had brought to the cave. “Do it,” he said, handing it over.

I gripped its hilt, the blade heavy in my grasp as I pushed to my feet and strode toward Fennyx with careful but determined steps. Eyes locked on the other wolf, who bared his teeth at me, I slowly raised my hand. “I want to help him.”

The other wolf’s lips flickered back over its teeth, and it let out another whine.

Keeping my eyes on him, I approached cautiously, knowing damned well I was about to stab his fellow wolf.

Fennyx whipped his head toward me, snarling and baring his teeth. His once-blue eyes had already turned black, a shiny chitin crawling over his haunches. Yet, he didn’t rise up from the ground, as if his body was paralyzed.

Aside from those teeth that snapped at me.

I struck quickly, driving the blade into his back, and the wolf let out a howl that brought the entire group to a standstill.

The other wolf snarled at me, but a presence at my back had me turning to see Verena stepping toward him, her hand outstretched. “He’s infected. Leave her.”

The wolf quieted and paced again.

Black blood oozed over my hand where the hilt remained lodged in Fennyx’s flesh. It was possible he might’ve been too infected and my efforts would be futile. My head tormented me with images of the Lyverian warrior’s death and his pregnant mate who’d lain draped over his body afterward.

I couldn’t bring myself to look back at Fennyx’s pups, but looked for Zevander.

He strode toward me, his eyes tight with concern.

Just as it had affected the female wolves back at the cave, the venom worked quickly on Fennyx, shedding the fur from his body, bones snapping and crackling. Fennyx arched back, his haunches curling up into muscled legs that shrank into human thighs and calves, claws retracting to fingers. His maw sank into his face, as if an invisible force pressed against it, until it took the form of a human nose and mouth. Obsidian eyes, set in a beautiful phoenix shape that swept toward his temples, stared back at me.

Until he finally lay trembling and naked on the sand.

I carefully knelt beside him, every muscle shaking as I curled my hand to a fist.

“What are you doing?” Zevander gripped my arm. “He’s still infected.”

“I need him to drink my blood. Can you hold him down?”

Zevander slammed his palm into the man’s throat, his muscles bulging with tension against Fennyx’s growling and thrashing as he held him pinned.

I dragged my metallic nail across my flesh, carving a thin gash into my forearm, and Zevander pressed harder, fingers digging into his neck.

Fennyx’s mouth gaped, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple, and I held my arm over his mouth, letting the blood drip down onto his tongue.

The moment he stilled, Zevander released him, and Fennyx screwed his eyes shut, his body shuddering, just as Aleysia’s had. Just like the warrior that’d died.

Fennyx stilled again on a long exhale.

Wincing, I turned away, counted off the seconds. “C’mon. Release him, Morsana.”

Seconds turned to minutes, his skin growing paler, lips blue.

“It seems she’s decided to keep him.”

As the feminine voice broke my concentration, I turned to see the woman who’d arrived with Corwin staring down at the fallen wolf.

I snapped my attention back toward Fennyx, my teeth grinding with anger. “Release him!” I demanded, and movement around me slowed to a stop.

The wolves halted their pacing, freezing in place. Zevander remained knelt, elbow resting on his bent knee, unmoving. Lothare’s hand rested at the top of his head, his worried expression locked.