The Vein He Opened

The needle touched the vein inside my elbow. "Just a little, Serena." Derrick bent over my arm, steadying the syringe between his fingers. "Elara is weak tonight." He used that tone whenever he wanted me to stop asking questions. Tender enough to pass for concern, firm enough to remind me that he was the Alpha. Tomorrow, under the full moon, I was supposed to become his mate. Tonight, he wanted my blood again. The point slid through my skin. Firelight disappeared. My back struck a dungeon floor so cold that each breath hurt. Pine wreaths became the smell of blood drying beneath my body. My last life had ended there. Derrick had taken every drop of pureblood essence the healers could draw and poured it into Elara. When my pulse grew too weak for another vial, he left me on the stones. The dungeon door had scraped shut while I was still awake. "Dispose of it," he told the guards. "She's no longer useful." It. The hearth returned first, then Derrick's fingers around my forearm. The syringe was still in me. His face hovered close, impatience tightening his mouth. Elara rested against his shoulder, coughing into a silk handkerchief. She watched me over its embroidered edge. "Derrick, perhaps we should stop." Her lashes were already wet. "Serena looks pale, and the ceremony is tomorrow. I would hate for her to be ill because of me." I had heard that speech before. Last time, I smiled and offered Derrick the other arm. My dead body on the dungeon floor cured me of that habit. I caught his wrist. Derrick jerked and nearly dropped the syringe. "Serena, what are you doing? Let go. Elara needs this." "No." I pulled the needle out. Blood gathered at the puncture. He tried to wrench free, but I held on. "Have you lost your mind? After everything I've done for you, you choose tonight to be selfish?" "Selfish?" A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Elara clung harder to his arm. "This is my fault. I've become such a burden. Please don't be angry with him, Serena." I kept looking at Derrick. There had been no lover hidden beneath the Alpha's title, only a man who measured my worth by the vial. I twisted the syringe from his hand and threw it into the hearth. Glass cracked against stone. The little blood left in the barrel ran between the shards. Elara gasped. Derrick stared at the broken syringe. His jaw worked once before he found his words. "You have no idea what you've done." "Get out. Both of you." He stepped toward me and let his Alpha pressure fill the room. It had put me on my knees many times. Now it only made the healing puncture sting. "You will regret this. We share a bond." "We have no bond." I pointed to the door. "You take, and I let you. That arrangement ends tonight. Leave before I throw more than a syringe." His hand lifted. For one second, I expected the blow. Then he looked at me properly. Whatever he found there made him lower it. He pulled Elara against his side. "Fine. Enjoy your tantrum. When the barrier weakens and our people fall sick because of your jealousy, don't crawl back to me." They left. From the corridor, Derrick called, "You'll come begging. You always do." The door slammed. I braced both hands on the table beside the hearth until my pulse settled. A bundle of Moonpetal lay near my fingers, ready to be brewed after the bloodletting. The silver leaves had curled inward. Their edges were black. They had been fresh that morning. Elara had fed on more than my blood. Even the herbs died in a room where she lingered. Across from me, a heavy tapestry showed the first Alpha of the Winter Pack. My ancestor stood stitched in white thread, one hand pressed to a crystal at his chest. I crossed the room and pulled the tapestry aside. My fingers found the catch between two stones. The wall opened onto a narrow passage that Derrick had never discovered. At its end waited the Winterheart Crystal. My family had made the barrier with it. The crystal answered our blood and no one else's. Derrick wore the Alpha title, yet every safe night his pack had enjoyed came from my line. He had mistaken access for ownership. I stepped into the passage. Blood from the needle prick slid onto my palm and shone silver in the dark. Derrick expected me to beg. By dawn, the Winterheart Crystal would be back in my hands.