That was right. Alerac eased out the breath that had frozen in his lungs. Keira couldn’t, wouldn’t die. Lorcan could continue his torture tactics, but he wouldn’t be able to hurt Alerac for much longer. Alerac’s pack was coming. They’d be there before—

“But you can take his punishment,” Lorcan continued, all of the anger suddenly gone from his voice. Flat and cold, he said, “After all, you were the one to bring him in to our clan. A dog, walking among gods.”

“You’re no god,” Alerac shouted at him. Lorcan was nothing, a blood drinker who lived off the fear he stirred. The werewolves were the truly powerful beings—both man and beast. Power and savagery in one dangerous package. And they didn’t have to feed off others in order to survive.

Lorcan’s dark eyes narrowed. “One hundred years. That’s the penalty for treason in our clan. Imprisonment. Starvation. For one hundred years.”

No, no, that wouldn’t happen to Keira. His men were planning to attack the compound. They’d save Keira long before she suffered even a single night’s pain.

Keira eased closer to Alerac. Her skin seemed to become even paler as she gazed at him. They’d sliced him, cutting into his body with that silver knife for hours, and they’d kept him manacled with silver so that he wouldn’t be able to transform into the body of his wolf.

No transformation meant no healing.

They thought they were making him weak.

They were wrong. He was the alpha of his pack. There was no weakness.

Except her.

Keira’s hand lifted. Her palm brushed against his cheek.

He’d had her under him, in bed, that very night. He’d given in to his need one more time. Made a desperate mistake.

Lorcan had found them.

Now Lorcan thought to make Keira pay?

“Don’t,” Alerac ordered her. The word was a growl from his beast.

Her hand dropped.

Her smile broke the heart that he shouldn’t have. “I won’t let you die.” Her chin lifted. Her bright stare cut toward Lorcan. “I will take the punishment, but you have to promise me that Alerac lives.” Her voice grew louder. All watched her with wide eyes. “No matter what else happens, he lives.”

“Why?” Lorcan’s lips were still twisted into a sly smile. “By the time you are free, he will be long dead.”

Because werewolves weren’t immortal, not like vampires. Not like their sworn enemies.

A battle that had raged for so long.

Blood. Death.

“Swear it, Lorcan,” Keira pushed, her voice even stronger now. “Vow it to me on the blood.”

Lorcan’s gaze returned to Alerac. Smug vampire. “I vow it,” he agreed easily enough.

Keira’s shoulders slumped. She glanced back at Alerac once more. Then she bent before him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and bringing her lips close to his ear. “I know you did not love me,” she whispered, her mouth brushing against him. “But I loved you.” Then she pulled back. Looked deep into his eyes.

The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought she was a dream.

A beautiful, perfect dream—a temptation.

A destruction.

Her lips pressed lightly against his.

“Take her,” Lorcan ordered, voice booming.

Other vampires rushed to obey.

Keira was hauled back.

He stared up at her, desperate. Alerac wanted to tell her that help was coming, it was just hours away. Hours? Or minutes? During the torture, he’d lost track of time, and Alerac wasn’t sure how long it would be before dawn arrived.

But if he told her about the others, then all of the vampires would be alerted to his plan. His men wouldn’t have the element of surprise on their side. He had to protect his pack.

An alpha’s job was always to protect the pack.

Shackles were put around Keira’s wrists.

No.

He leapt to his feet with a roar, ignoring the silver and the vampires who tried to subdue him. The power of his beast beat within him. The sight of Keira, bound, enraged him. Not her. No one could hurt her. No one would hurt her.

The manacles broke from the walls. He lunged toward Lorcan.

But vampires could move fast, so very fast. Before Alerac could reach him, Lorcan’s bloody knife was at Keira’s delicate throat.

“If she loses her head, she will die easily enough.” Lorcan’s Irish brogue whispered through the words. A brogue that he picked up, and dropped, seemingly at will. Lorcan was centuries old. Some tales said that he’d been born a Viking and had journeyed to Ireland long ago, bringing hell with him. “Do you want her death on you?” Lorcan asked as he studied Alerac. “Seems so pointless, especially when we worked out a deal.”

There was no fear in Keira’s eyes. “Imprisonment won’t kill me. It will hurt. I will suffer.” She swallowed and pulled in a deep breath. “But I won’t die.”

And you won’t be imprisoned. My men will have you free by dawn.

“All of this…because I killed a few of your dogs?” Lorcan’s knife nicked Keira’s throat. Her blood trickled down in a dark red line. “They should have known better than to tangle with me.”

Vampires reached for Alerac. He threw out his chains, catching them across their faces. Snapping bones. Fighting. He couldn’t attack Lorcan, not while he held that knife at Keira’s throat, but he could go after the others. “They were my family!” The rage came then, building, swelling within him. The vampires had taken away what he valued, now it was his turn to destroy them. To wipe out their stronghold. To end their blood reign.

Because of Keira, his men now knew how to get inside the vampire’s keep. With the light of dawn, they’d attack. The timing had been deliberate. Vampires were weakest during the day. The vampires would be weak, but the wolves would be at full strength. How long is it until dawn?

“They were family,” Lorcan dismissed, a sneer twisting his face, “and now they’re rotting in the ground.”

Keira tensed. Then she spun around, moving fast—far faster than Lorcan had obviously anticipated. Vampire speed. Now that Keira was turning, she was coming into her vampire powers.

In a flash, she grabbed the knife from Lorcan, and she shoved it into his chest.

But silver wouldn’t kill a vampire.

It would just make him hurt.