Asher kept his eyes on the werewolf.
"The Devourer of World Bloodlines," he said calmly, "isn't just a trait. It's a curse-level bloodline."
The werewolf's grin widened, but he didn't interrupt.
"It allows you to devour bloodlines," Asher continued. "Any bloodline. Any race. You break them down and turn them into your own strength."
The werewolf's claws flexed. "And?"
"And it's too powerful," Asher said. "A bloodline like that can't exist on its own. It needs a stabilizing agent, or it destroys the host."
The werewolf's eyes flickered.
"Vampire blood," Asher said. "That's your stabilizer. Their blood is refined. Concentrated. It's already close to an elixir. That's why you hunted them."
The werewolf laughed softly. "You understand more than most."
"You weren't killing out of hatred," Asher said. "You were feeding to survive. To keep the Devourer from tearing you apart."
The werewolf leaned forward. "And now I've found something better."
Asher's gaze sharpened. "Me."
