Laurent looked at them but their faces blurred together. All he could see was Paul, lying in a bloody heap on the hard, dirty floor as the wolves of his former pack beat him and kicked him to death. Paul, hold on…hold on! I have to get away—have to get to you somehow. But the tracker was holding him tightly and two other massive vampires obviously in his father’s employ guarded the only exit from the room. He was trapped, stuck.
“ We are gathered here today in order to pass the title of Viscount of the Blood to Laurent Montcrieve,” intoned one of the ancient council members. “As you all know—”
“I do not want the title.” Inside Laurent felt as bruised and bloody as his lover was but he forced himself to stand erect and speak loudly and clearly, making sure there could be no mistake.
“Excuse me but…what? What was that you said?” The eldest council member, who had to be close to a thousand, frowned up at Laurent.
“I, Laurent, do now, here and forevermore renounce and forswear myself of the name of Montcrieve and the title of Viscount of the Blood,” Laurent said rapidly. There was a muted gasp from those gathered in the room and from the corner of his eye he could see his father’s angry face but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting free to go to Paul.
“Laurent—” His mother started but Laurent wasn’t done yet.
“I have found my Coeur de Sang and he is a were. A werewolf,” he said clearly. “I have formed a blood bond with him and I have no interest in choosing a consort from any of the ladies my father has assembled here.” He nodded to one side of the room where a trio of lovely young women of the Blood were standing. They were all dressed as stunningly as his mother and their eyes were wide with shock. Laurent could not have done more to ruin his father’s plan if he’d publically admitted to a preference for incest or bestiality.
There, now they will have to let me go—I am an outcast. Paul, can you hear me? I will be coming to you soon! Laurent listened but he didn’t get the sense that his lover had understood him. Both of them wearing silver certainly weakened the connection.
Cursing the restraints around his wrists, he tried again. Paul? I am coming to you. Hold on, mon amour ! Hold on to life! Still he got no sense of recognition. Then…
I love you, Laurent. I should have told you that before. Sorry I didn’t. But I’m telling you now…I love you.
I love you too. I— And then the wrenching pain began. Laurent fell to his knees as he felt Paul uproot his end of their blood bond. His own end, the silver tree that had taken root in his heart the night they had first made love, was untouched. But Laurent felt it begin to wither at once, like a plant dying for lack of sunshine or rain.
Both of us, the bond needs both of us to live, he thought weakly and then rough hands were dragging him away from the council and out of the room.
Paul, he sent, knowing it was useless but not able to help trying anyway. Paul, please…please…
But there was no answer from Paul’s side of their link—even the pain was gone, replaced by a horrible numbness. Laurent realized with growing dread that he could no longer hear Paul or feel him at all.
The bond was broken and it could never be repaired.
Chapter Sixteen
When he woke up the beating had stopped. At first Paul didn’t know what to think.
Where am I? Am I dead? He certainly felt dead— wished he were dead. The hole in his heart where his half of the bond had been ached like an empty socket. He had that feeling again—the same one he’d had when he tuned Laurent all the way down and out. The feeling of being horribly alone in his skin with no one to love him. Only this time it was a hundred thousand times worse. This time it was permanent.
Laurent…Dios, so sorry. I miss you so much already. I wish— “He’s dead,” a familiar voice said near his ear.
“Are you sure? Because it looked to me like maybe he was still breathing. I got a gun in my car—a .44 loaded with silver caps. We can make sure.” The second voice sounded like Chulo.
“I said he’s fucking dead!” The first voice again. It was Angel, Paul was sure of it.
“Okay, okay. So we need to get rid of him. The body, I mean. You wanna take him to the dump? Or just throw him in the gulf?”
“I’ll deal with it,” Angel growled.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to go,” a feminine voice objected. Mercedes, Paul realized. “He’s a wolf who died in disgrace. According to pack law—”