THE WOLVES HURTLED toward Roth, bowling him over onto his back. He was in trouble. Though he was a powerful immortal, even Roth couldn’t survive an attack from an entire pack of wolves.

He fought them off, sending two sailing through the air and crunching into the side of the club. The warlock had long since left, locking the doors to Red-Handed as club-goers gawked through the windows.

I didn’t have time to think. I only acted. Summoning my bow and reaching behind me, I dragged three arrows from my quiver and nocked them in one fluid movement. I kept my eye on Roth as he fought, now bloodied, and waited for the split second when there was an opening. When he fell under the sheer weight of the attack, I had a chance and loosed my arrows.

Each arrow hit a wolf, sharp cries erupting from the beasts as they fell to the pavement. Still got it. Not wasting another second, I nocked three more arrows, sending them sailing into the crowd. Three more pained cries erupted, but now I’d gotten the pack’s attention. They turned on me, leaving the bloodied Roth for later. He yelled with fury, trying to direct them back to where he lay. But they were on to a new target, lifting their noses into the air and scenting me as they growled with anticipation.

As they began circling, I reached back for more arrows, nocking two and loosing them into the nearest wolf. It yelped and rolled onto its side. I re-nocked the arrows, but the wolves were closing in. It was only a matter of time before I was overrun.

Roth was in bad shape, and I was outnumbered. I looked back toward the club door for any slight glimmer of hope but only saw the two drunken witches pointing behind me and dramatically mouthing Wolves!

Yeah, I see them, you morons.

No one was coming to our rescue. It was time to fight or die.

With a cry of rage, Roth was on his feet again. It was as if he sensed my fear. Though huge gashes marred his flesh, he still fought, attacking the nearest wolves with reckless abandon. Thuds reverberated as the wolves hit the ground, yelping in pain but quickly regaining their feet and rushing into the fray again. The smell of blood permeated the air, an iron sting to my nose that reminded me of the horrors I’d witnessed in Ares’s lair.

“Lilah, run!” Roth stumbled against the onslaught, wolf after wolf pouncing on him, clawing and biting his powerful body. His blood painted the street. He didn’t stop coming for me, even though he must have known he wouldn’t live through the ordeal. And then I realized he would never stop coming for me. The determined look on his bloody face told me as much. I was no longer afraid of losing my life, but of the loss of something else. Something I’d locked away a long time ago and sworn never to give up again—my heart.

As two wolves broke off to attack me, I readied my shot. I gave one more look to Roth, knowing it would be my last. His eyes burned into mine, not letting me go for an instant despite the teeth and claws that sank into him and marked his doom. Mine. The word ricocheted through my mind like an errant bullet.

The wolves reached me and poised to pounce. I was ready to send a final volley of arrows into them. But then I heard Farrow’s voice, uncharacteristically strong with authority, say something in a language I didn’t recognize. Almost instantly, the pack backed away from both Roth and me. Farrow was standing behind them, continuing on in the strange language. The wolves’ ears were cocked at attention. When Farrow’s speech was done, the pack retreated to the shadows, the wounded limping along with the rest. They were gone as suddenly as they came, only ghosts in the night.

I couldn’t believe it. Of all the twists of fate—Farrow had ruined my life a century ago, yet had turned around and given it back to me now.

Farrow had already healed from Roth’s onslaught, his fair features still a mix of handsome man and mischievous boy. His eyes were sober now, evincing that clear blue that had so enthralled me those years ago in the Forgotten Forest.

With a shrug and what I realized was the most genuine feeling I’d ever heard in his voice, he said, “Lilah, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But if anyone could have, it would’ve been you.”

I stood speechless as he took off toward the Champs-Élysées, never looking back as he disappeared into the dark.

* * *

“I’ll help ye load him in yer car.” The warlock’s thick Irish accent went perfectly with his bright red hair. He and the rest of the gawkers had opened the doors once the wolf pack disappeared. They stared in disbelief at the blood and bits of fur and flesh that littered the street in front of Red-Handed.

I ignored them and helped Roth to his feet. Immediately, I felt his warm blood seeping through my shirt; he was still bleeding, not healing quickly enough for my tastes. A twinge of worry ate at me, but I tried to focus on just getting him back home. I took the warlock’s offer, and together we lowered Roth into the passenger side of his sports car.

“I can drive.” Roth struggled to get out of the bucket seat but didn’t quite make it. The worry became more than a twinge. Blood flowed from the deep wounds in his neck, soaking through his shirt.

“Sit down.” I slid behind the wheel and pressed the ignition button. The engine roared to life, and I eyed the gearshift with apprehension. It had been a long time since I’d driven a stick, but I would make it work.

Shifting tentatively into first gear, I managed to get going, the engine only sputtering a little as I let off the clutch. “We’ll be home in no time.” I made my best effort to keep the concern from my voice.

I gunned it through the alleyways and backstreets of Montmartre, Roth groaning every time I accidentally ground the gears.

“I’m in pain.” His dark eyes barely made an appearance beneath his lowered lids.

“I know. I’m going as fast as I can.” His power was fading, and I was trying not to panic.

“That’s the problem. Your driving…is what’s hurting me.”

“On the verge of death and making jokes.” I put some extra elbow grease into the next gear shift, wincing at the metal-on-metal sound that drowned out Roth’s agonized moan.

When I pulled up to the courtyard, I honked the horn continuously until Bart ran out. Upon seeing Roth, he rushed to the car.

“Oh, master, what happened?” The hand-wringing began immediately.

“Are the girls in?” I jumped out and ran around to Roth’s side of the car.

“No, they went out for the evening.”

Damnit. I would have welcomed Anne and Corinne’s help. But my doctoring skills would have to do.

“Help me get him upstairs. We need to get him cleaned up to get a better look at his injuries.” The gashes that marred his handsome face were obvious, but blood had soaked through his ripped shirt and trousers, making it impossible to know where he was hurt and how badly.

The trip up the stairs was slow going. Roth was so tall and muscular that even with Bart under one arm and me under the other, we struggled beneath his weight. Roth tried to help, but I locked my arm around his waist. “Just relax. We’ve got you.”

I directed him toward the bathroom, eventually sitting him precariously on the edge of his tub. “Do you want to hold or strip?”

“I beg your pardon, madam?” Bart looked as if I’d just slapped him with dainty lady gloves.

“This is no time to be shy. I need these clothes off him, now.”

“Ah, the magic words.” Roth’s words slurred and the wounds on his face still hadn’t closed.

“I ah, well…” Bart stammered.

“Are you going to help me or not?” I barked as Roth’s head lolled onto my shoulder.

“Yes, yes of course.” Bart knelt and pulled off Roth’s shoes while I held him steady against me. After a few moments of Bart wrangling with Roth’s clothes, he was stripped bare. The wounds were deep, some bites showing sinew and bone through the flesh.

“Let’s get him into the bath. It’ll be the fastest way to clean all the wounds.” I reached over and started the water, then directed Bart to help me slide Roth down into the tub, leaving a bloody streak wherever his battered body touched the marble. A pink bloom spread into the clear water, beautiful yet horrific. Roth’s eyes were open, but glassy — alarmingly so.

Once Roth was situated, I ordered Bart to go to the nearest white witch and get whatever herbs or potions she could offer.

Before leaving, Bart hesitated at the door and cleared his throat.

“What is it?”

“If I may say, madam.” His cheeks were practically scarlet. “I-I-I wanted to say that there is one way he could regain his strength.” He stared out the bathroom door toward Roth’s bed, not looking at me but clearly giving away what he meant. “I couldn’t bear it, you see, if he-he…” Tears began to pool in Bart’s eyes as he trained his earnest gaze on me. “He’s, as you know, an incubus. So, if one were to-to-to…”

“I follow. Now, go.” I waved him away. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d thought of it while we were in the car. I gave Roth a look, curious if he’d been listening. “I could, you know.”

“That won’t be necessary.” His eyes remained closed, his voice weak.

A slow trickle of blood made its way from a cut at his temple, dripping into the water and sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. He was losing too much blood, and his healing powers were flagging.

“Why aren’t you healing?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! What’s wrong with you?” I leaned over the tub, staring at his pale face.

His breathing became labored as he struggled to answer. I softened my tone and held his wounded face in my hands. “Tell me.”

“That night when I brought you here. You thought I’d, I’d been with Corinne. I wasn’t. I couldn’t, not with you here. Not with you—”

A cold slice of knowledge slid into my heart like an ice shard. “When? When was the last time?”

“I haven’t allowed the incubus to feed since…” He trailed off.

“Since when?”

Roth was silent, his head lolling to the side. He hasn’t been with anyone else since we met. I couldn’t believe it—after all the pain the incubus had caused him the last time he’d tried to deny it. And now he was doing it again—for me. He wasn’t what I’d expected or what I’d ever thought I wanted. But here he was, and he needed me. If I didn’t help him, he could die.

I panicked, surprised and afraid at how powerfully the thought of Roth dying affected me. So many emotions came rushing over me, the fear that I’d been pushing away now eating me up, forcing me to act. Before I even knew what I’d done, I stripped myself and jumped into the water, not caring about the blood. I only cared about saving him. I would do anything I had to do to keep him with me. Anything.