Matt said baldly, “You’ve been Kissed by a vampire, Adam.”
Adam stared at him. “No,” he said without conviction. “I looked.” His breathing grew rapid, and so did the pulse in his neck. “There were no bite marks.”
He pulled up his sleeve, and there were two rough puncture marks on the inside of his arm. “See?” he said. “Vampire bites heal as slowly on a werewolf as any wound on a mortal. If I had been bitten, there would be marks.” His voice was slowing, slurring, as something inside—probably his wolf—fought to uncover the lies he’d been fed, lies that blinded him to the red marks on his skin.
Matt wished there were pack bonds between them—pack bonds always made it easier to get an Alpha to listen to him. He raised his eyes and met Adam’s.
“You were bitten,” he said. “Without the pack here to anchor you, a powerful enough vampire can make you remember whatever he wants you to remember. You have to fight it, Adam. Listen to your wolf and fight it.”
Adam held his gaze and broke out in a sweat as the brown lightened to gold. The wolf inside Adam, in another place and time, might have objected to another wolf holding his eyes. But this was not a dominance fight. Matt’s status, instead of making this a fight, made it an offer of help acceptable to Adam’s wolf.
Matt had hoped it would work. But dominant wolves were unpredictable. This could have ended in bloodshed.
“Shit,” said Adam, the words dragging out of him like pulling a body out of quicksand. “Shit. Damn it to hell. I’ve been bitten by a fucking vampire.”
“Change,” Matt suggested. “That will help.”
Adam shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Can’t,” Adam said. “Can’t lose face with Bonarata. I have to stay human. I have to get out of here tonight to get Mercy—and before I do, I need to figure out why the hell Bonarata stole her in the first place. Stupid fucking vampires.”
“Agreed,” said Matt. “Though pretty undiplomatic if we are being recorded. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not now,” Adam said. “I’ll fight this out myself. Now that I know what’s going on. I think I’ve got this.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “This will teach me not to listen to my wolf. It’s been telling me there is something wrong since”—Adam looked at Matt and flashed him a surprisingly sweet smile, given the sweat trickling down his forehead—“since Mercy disappeared, I guess. And that was the problem. Too hard to tell one hissy fit from another.”
He fell silent. Matt put a hand tentatively on the other wolf’s shoulder, and when Adam didn’t shrug him off, he left it there. They didn’t share a bond, but Matt was older than he looked, and there were ways to feed power through touch.
Adam lifted his head and opened blind eyes when he felt the initial rush. He sucked in two gulps of air, then said in a hoarse voice, “You’ll have to teach me how to do that when this is all over. I can think of all sorts of times that would come in handy.”
Matt smiled, though the other wolf couldn’t see him. “Will do.” And then he fed him more power.
It wasn’t as much help as Adam’s pack would have been. With a pack, Guccio would never have been able to get such a hold on an Alpha’s mind. It said something about Guccio’s ranking among the vampires that he could do it at all. He caught a whiff of Honey and knew that Adam was pulling on that bond, too.
He could tell when Adam freed himself because the Alpha wolf’s body relaxed, and his breathing eased. When Adam opened his eyes, they were dark brown once more.
“I’ve left the tie in place,” he told Matt. “I don’t want to give Guccio warning. Let’s see what he does with it.”
Matt’s eyebrows rose. “Is that wise?”
“Probably not,” Adam said with a toothy smile. “But I’ve got it. Do me a favor, though?”
“Anything,” Matt said.
“If I start doing what Guccio says, take that gun in your ankle holster and shoot me with it, would you?”
Matt grinned. “Sure thing.”
—
ADAM TOOK THE LEAD BACK TO THE DINING HALL. THE filthy tie that Guccio had imposed upon him made him feel like Little Miss Muffet on her tuffet—but he couldn’t afford to react to the great spider.
He tried to look as if all that he’d been discussing with Smith had been the latest episode of Doctor Who, though he couldn’t do anything about the sweat. Thankfully, his suit would hide any sign of dampness even if there was nothing to be done about the smell.
As he’d surmised, despite having told them all to eat without them, everyone was seated with food growing cold on their plates or in their glasses, depending upon what kind of monster they were.
Without saying another word, Smith headed to the table with the goblins and Elizaveta, who was frowning at him. He felt something, and a gentle breeze, that smelled of Elizaveta, brushed his skin. Her face went blank; and then she looked pleased. She greeted Smith with a pleasant smile.
Adam sat down opposite Bonarata, with Marsilia on his left and Guccio on his right. There was a warmish American-style breakfast on his plate, enough food to satisfy a werewolf. If he were to guess, conversation hadn’t been going too well while he was gone. Marsilia’s mouth was tight around the edges, Guccio looked amused, and Bonarata looked particularly bland.
“Sorry to keep you,” Adam said to Bonarata. “Urgent pack business.”