A raven-haired worshiper of the Titans--Hekate and Nyx--is determined to save her lover from an ancient curse, she must prove to him that life is worth living and that being a werewolf has its perks.
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Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Giannis bruised his knuckles against a tree trunk and spat on the ground as his aggravation fueled him. None of his friends wanted to come with him to the Manor. None of them surprised him by showing up, and for once he couldn't bully them to changing their minds. He had tried his hardest instead to make it sound as appealing as possible. He didn't tell them the exclusive details because he felt Lazarus would have made a more compelling argument, he just needed them in the forest. They just needed to meet him then they would have been convinced. Lazarus would have preferred it that way and so he had lied to his friends and described it as a harmless prank. They all looked at him as if he was insane and he seethed at their disinterest. He rarely asked them to do anything, they were such posers, they didn't even want to go to Penthouse anymore and when he would suggest other nightclubs they ran their mouths with excuses. It was pathetic! One of them had a girlfriend and she was stealing all his time from his mates, the others just straight up left the pub. The last friend that remained had curled his lips in, like he was debating what to say.
'Giannis,' his friend said, 'You can't blame them, I mean you had that two week fling with Rhea. And it's not the only time you've picked yourself over your friends.' His couldn't meet his eye but Giannis noticed the faded stamp on his wrist from the nightclub Lah Lahs. He scrunched up his face in disgust and stormed out of the pub. They wouldn't even give him a chance and Giannis couldn't believe how his friends could ditch him like that. He even tried calling Rosie and she only picked up just so she could laugh at him.
What would Lazarus think of him? That he had no influence anymore? It was unbearable to think about, so he stuck to thinking about working the shotgun he'd been given. He wasn't sure how Lazarus, and his fiends, were able to smuggle the weapons into the country let alone the state. Australia was so prissy with their gun laws that they hid out in the forest. Giannis played it tough whenever a vampire looked in his direction however, he could solely admit to himself, that a part of him felt wrong carrying the gun. It was almost too satisfying like it was moulded perfectly to fit in his hands. He felt a buzzing sensation come from it and spied the symbol engraved into the metal; it was a head of a big cat snarling with a diamond sitting on its tongue and thorned roses patterned behind its head.
'Whose emblem is this?' he asked.
Lazarus turned away from the woman and grinned at him baring pearly white fangs. Like a spider smiling at the fly. He gently traced his fingers on Giannis' back and Giannis relaxed under his icy touch. 'It's the symbol of my patrons. They fund our expeditions to rid the world of rabid beasts like the Mavros family.'
'So, we are going to kill all of them?' he felt his chest clench when he reimagined Rhea holding her sister in the water. Arianna was dead. He was there at the funeral but he still couldn't fully believe it. Lazarus had promised that it was a quick death, his wolves got carried away and every odd word, every sentence that should have troubled him flowed through his mind like a calm misty morning.
