BLACKTOP MOON

CHAPTER 8:BLOODLINE

The eyes in the dark blinked once, slow, deliberate, and then whatever was attached to them melted backward into the tree line without a sound, leaving nothing behind but the echo of my own heartbeat slamming too hard against my ribs and the low growl still building somewhere in Ronan's chest.

Ronan did not relax. If anything he went more still, head tilted slightly like he was listening to something beyond the range of my own ears, nostrils flaring once in a way I would have found funny under literally any other circumstances than this one.

Hollow Fangs scout, he said finally, low, more to himself than to me. Which means they already know exactly where you are, and how easy the perimeter is to slip past when nobody's expecting company at two in the morning.

That name again, I said, arms wrapped around myself against a cold that had nothing to do with the garage's temperature. Mabel mentioned it too. Who are they, really. Not the version everyone keeps half explaining.

Rival pack, he said, finally turning to look at me once the tree line had gone still and empty again. Bigger territory than us, meaner leadership under an Alpha named Silas Cade, less interest in following any of the old rules about how this whole bloodline business is supposed to work between packs. He finally met my eyes fully, and whatever calm he usually wore had cracked enough to show something rawer underneath. If they get to you before we figure out how to protect you properly, they won't ask nicely for what you're carrying, Wren. They'll take it.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, cold despite the warm garage air pressing in around us. And you people would, I said. Ask nicely. Is that the difference you're selling me.

Something flickered across his face, something almost like shame, and he did not look away from it the way I half expected him to. I don't know yet what I'd do if it came down to your blood or my pack's survival, he said, quiet and honest in a way that hurt more than a lie would have. And I want you to know that's the truth even though it's an ugly one to say out loud to your face.

I appreciated that more than I expected to, standing there in the half dark with my pulse still not fully settled. At least you're not lying to me about it, I said.

I don't lie to you, Wren, he said, quiet and certain, taking one step closer, close enough now that I had to tilt my chin up to keep meeting his eyes. I've let you lie to me plenty, more than you probably realize I noticed. I've kept things back that weren't mine to tell you yet. But I have never once told you something that wasn't true.

That distinction should not have mattered as much as it did, standing there in an empty garage at two in the morning with a rival pack apparently already circling and my entire genetic makeup revealed to be some kind of supernatural currency, but it landed somewhere soft and unguarded in my chest anyway, a small warm thing in the middle of a night that had given me nothing but cold.

We should get you back inside, he said, glancing once more toward the tree line like he did not fully trust it to stay empty. Now that they know where you are, staying out here in the open isn't smart, not for either of us.

He walked close beside me back toward the main building, closer than strictly necessary, one hand hovering near the small of my back without quite touching, protective in a way that made something in me want to lean into it and something else want to bolt in the opposite direction, both instincts screaming at equal volume. Halfway across the yard he stopped, turned to face me fully under a security light that buzzed faintly overhead, and the look on his face told me whatever he was about to say had been sitting in him for longer than tonight.

There's something else Mabel didn't get to finish telling you, he said. About what happens to the blood once it's given. It doesn't just break the curse. It binds the person it comes from to whoever receives it. Permanently, no matter what happens after.

The word landed heavy between us, settling into the space where the cold night air met the warmth still coming off his skin. Bound how, I asked, though some traitorous part of me already suspected the answer before he said it.

Bound the way mates are bound, he said. Except this version isn't a choice made slowly over time, the way it's supposed to work between two wolves who court each other properly. It's instant. Total. Once it's done it can't be undone, not by either person, no matter what either of us wants after the fact.

So if I give you my blood, I said slowly, working it through out loud, feeling the shape of it settle over me like a weight, I'm choosing you. Forever. Right now, tonight, before I even know if that's what I actually want.

His jaw tightened, and for the first time since I had met him he looked less like an Alpha carrying a pack's survival on his shoulders and more like a man terrified of the answer to his own question.

Yes, he said. Which is exactly why I haven't asked you for it, and exactly why I'm telling you the truth about it now, standing right here, before anyone else decides to make that choice for you instead of letting it be yours.