Emelda
Michael has officially lost his mind. I edge closer to the bed, the vial I hold trembling as I raise a shaking hand. “You can’t possibly know that for sure. It’s too early. Far too early.”
He looks down at the nearly dead vampire in the bed, his eyes wide and glossy with shock and the last glimmers of a very deep kind of sleep. “Is there anything you can do to check–”
“Not for several more weeks,” I cut in, gripping the vial like it’s a lifeline. In all actuality, I have Faye’s life in my hands right now. A few drops of this will kill her within a single minute.
Just a few hours ago, when I left my closest, dearest friend in this room with what I firmly believe is the love of his life–his mate, as the shifters call it–I’d been ready to let Faye slip away. He’d been ready as wel
