She dropped her hand into her lap, unsure of how to react to such intensely meaningful words. A tremor went through her body like the aftershock of an earthquake, hitting every part of her in waves. He’d always teased her, always flirted, but she’d always supposed it was a sort of deliberate inappropriateness meant as mere playfulness. She’d assumed that he knew it was safe to play with her because they would never be together. Never had it occurred to her that his declarations could possibly come from somewhere so deep within his soul.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” she replied. “I mean, you’ve joked around so many times…”

“I don’t joke, not really,” he said, a distinctly low growl shading his voice. “I want you more than anything in this world. When I’m with you, I’m happy. I think in those moments that there is some hope in this godforsaken fucking world. You fill me with the stuff. You’re like a painkiller; a healthy one for which there’s no such thing as an overdose.”

She stared at him, her lips sealed. Nothing would have pleased her more than to tell him that she felt the same way. That he made her feel more alive than anything had since her youth, the days long before her Wolf had gone dormant. He renewed her energy, made her feel warm despite her cold-running blood. Despite the fact that she wasn’t whole. He gave her strength when she had none.

“It’s fine. Don’t say anything,” he muttered, turning away.

“Minach, you don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not a simple thing, this. I…”

“You what? Find me repugnant? Well, I don’t blame you, given the way I behave,” he shot her. “I’m not the charmer that Aegis is, or the leader that Lumen is. I’m not sweet and gentle like my twin…”

“No, it’s not that. Not at all.”

“What is it then?” His icy blue eyes locked on hers again, and she could have wept for how gorgeous he looked. How hurt, how vulnerable. He was so real in that moment.

“Minach, I’m dying.”

The Dragon shifter pulled back, his eyebrows knitting together. “What did you just say?”

“It’s happening to all of us,” she said, her gaze pulling away from his to take in anything but him. “All of the Enlightened, all of my kind. Our lives are proving unsustainable. We’ve known it for some time. It won’t happen tomorrow. Perhaps not even next year. But my time is coming, and soon. The wound I sustained under Glastonbury Tor was a blow to what was already a weakening body. It drained me so that I can’t fight as I used to. I can function, but that’s all. I suppose I should never have taken this job with the Syndicate. The truth is that I’m not the warrior I once was. I told Bertie that I’m good with a blade, but I’m not, not anymore.”

“No, this can’t be,” he muttered. She thought she saw his chest tighten, his face losing its colour. His entire body seemed to deflate before her eyes. “How is this happening?”

“Someone such as me has needs—physical needs—that can’t be met without sacrificing our souls. There’s only so long that my kind can survive on the blood of animals. My body is breaking down slowly. I’m fading, and I’m not sure how long I might have.”

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Amara.” He slammed his fist down on the table, drawing stares from the restaurant’s patrons. “No. This makes no sense.”

She averted her eyes, turning her face away to hide her grief. Shaking her head, she replied, “I’m not so strong. I’d hoped to help my people, to find a way out of this fate of ours. But the truth is that the only way to grow strong is through the very thing we disdain, and even that is only temporary, Minach.”

“You would need human blood to sustain you.” He spoke the words quietly, a hint of disgust in his voice.

“Yes,” said Amara. “You know what it means. You know what would become of me if I succumbed to that urge.”

“You would become one of them.” Minach sneered as he uttered the last word, his disdain for the Forsaken lingering on the air.

She nodded. “But I will never give in, and as punishment my body will continue to decay, as it has my whole life.”

“Can I not help you? What can I do?” he asked, helplessness tightening his vocal cords.

She offered up a weak smile. Reaching for his hand, she took it in both of hers. His massive fingers dwarfed hers, but she squeezed tight. “Be my friend,” she said, “as you have been since we met.”

“I want to be more to you,” he protested. “So much more than that.”

Amara’s heart ached as she took in the words. She wanted it too. He was more to her than a friend; he was a soul mate. A platonic one, but a soul mate all the same. They were one another’s support in difficult times, but so much more than that, too. He was the man she desired with everything inside her. He was her nourishment, as much as the animal blood that she ingested reluctantly.

“I don’t think I can give you more, Minach,” she said quietly. “Listen, can we order some food to take away, and find this cottage Bertie told me about? Suddenly I’m not feeling so much like eating.”

Minach looked dejected, defeated. But he nodded. “Sure, I’ll go speak to someone.”

A few minutes later when he’d handed Amara a large, warm paper bag containing what was presumably their lunch they stepped outside, only to find that the street around the restaurant’s entrance had suddenly become crowded.

A small group of men and women—Wolf shifters, from the smell of things—stood just outside, seemingly anticipating their exit.

Amara assumed that they were there to see the new Dragon shifter in their midst, but it only took a moment for her to realize that every set of eyes had locked on her face, not on his. No doubt reading the same thing, Minach thrust himself protectively between his companion and the strangers.

“What the hell is going on here?” he growled, the feral energy of his Dragon hanging in the air between himself and the strange crowd.

“We were told that you were here,” one of the women said. She was a mousy thing with stringy brown hair and large green eyes. “Emma told us that a Wolf and a Dragon had come.”

“Emma, the cashier in the shop? But I don’t understand,” Amara said, stepping around Minach, unafraid. “I’m no Wolf, not these days at least. What would shifters want with me?”

“You’re one of us,” the woman said. “You’ve got our blood in your veins. Emma told us she’d seen you. She said that there was a woman who had a powerful déor lost inside her.”

Minach turned to look towards Amara, a stupefied look crinkling his brow. The meek shopkeeper had assessed a great deal in the short time they’d spent with her.

“I haven’t seen my Wolf in a good while,” Amara told the strangers. “My déor is all but dead inside me, so I’m not sure what interest you could possibly have in the likes of me. I am broken.”

The Wolf pack’s members shifted their weight from foot to foot, their eyes moving to the ground, necks craned submissively. It was a spectacle that the Dragon shifter had rarely seen; natural subordinates looking to a natural leader.

The Dragon Guild had an Alpha in Lumen. But despite his existence, there was a sort of equality to each member’s status. Any one of them could have led; any one of them was powerful enough to command. Not so for Wolves.

“Our protector has died,” one of the men said, his hands shakily clenching a plaid wool hat. “That’s why we came looking, you see. Your presence gave us hope. The two of you together—you could be a powerful force in the region. A force against those who threaten us.”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, her tone gentle but firm. “So sorry for all of you. But Minach and I are not mates. Besides, without my déor I’m not one of you; I’m not powerful. I’m an outsider, an Other. You need to find one of your own to serve as leader.”

“So many of our kind are gone,” the man replied, his eyes daring to meet Amara’s. “The Forsaken have made quick work of them. Shifter blood sustains those horrid creatures longer than human; it gives them prolonged strength. We are all at risk that they will return, so long as no one is here to protect us.”

Amara reached for Minach’s arm, her hand grasping his wrist tight as she struggled to keep her balance. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, stepping into the street. “We have to go.”

Minach stared at her in stunned silence as she dragged him along the street, away from the group of oddities who seemed so bent on making her their fearless leader. She’d gone even more pale than usual, tormented by some inner demon.

“What in God’s name was that?” he asked when they were several feet away.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t care, either. They had no business approaching us like that.”

“Amara, you would care if an ant got stepped on. I refuse to believe that you don’t care about a bunch of desperate shifters.”

She stopped and swung around to face him, seeming to grow four inches in the process. Her face glowed with power and anger.

“Of course I care, Minach. But I have nothing to offer them. You have no idea what it is to have to leave the helpless behind again and again, to be able to offer them no hope, no strength. To have to watch those you care for fade away. I want nothing more than to help them, but don’t you see? I have nothing to give.”

“I don’t get it. If you’re half Wolf, then why don’t you make use of that side of yourself? If she is alive inside you, then surely you can find her. Fight this disease that consumes you. Seek out your strength and summon your déor.”

Amara wanted to weep. If only she could make him understand; if only he knew what it felt like to be a prisoner in your own body. “I’m too weak, Minach. My mind is strong, but I told you, I’m an invalid, a faint excuse for a living thing. My Wolf has lost herself somewhere in the far reaches of my being, but I don’t have what it takes to find her. She’s gone into a state of eternal slumber, and may never rise again. Now, please—let’s get to the cottage. I need to rest.”

With that, Amara turned and strode away from Minach while he remained frozen in place, swallowing the wail that threatened to form in his chest. She knew what it was that he felt.

She knew that his Dragon’s heart was breaking for her lost Wolf.