Valeria burned with two hungers: the sharp sweetness of revenge, and the slow, decadent ache of power slipping back into her veins. She savored both, like a lover lingering over forbidden fruit. Revenge would taste sweetest, yes—but without her strength, she would never have the pleasure of devouring it whole.
She knew her sister too well. Knew the man who had once betrayed her even better. They were clever, cautious, meticulous. If they even suspected her lurking near Eila's precious little pack, they would descend upon her. And in her weakened state, she would be nothing more than prey. No, she must tread carefully. She must recover her power, sip by sip, life by life.
The method had revealed itself almost by accident, and it was intoxicating. Men were so simple, so eager to fall at her feet when her smile brushed them like silk. The first—an unmated wolf with wide, adoring eyes—had offered himself on a whim, and she had taken him, drained him, and awoken with a delicious shiver of strength curling through her blood. It was not the full symphony of what she had once been, but it was a note of it, a promise. The Variums had gladly cleaned the mess, Jeremy too enthralled by her beauty to question.
That first taste had turned her cautious patience into hunger. She prowled from pack to pack, scattering nights of passion like seeds and leaving only withered husks behind. Each man gave her a little more—a spark here, a shudder there. But it was never enough. She began to crave not the fleeting spark, but the constant flame. A man strong enough to be drained without dying, his vitality feeding her until she was whole again.
Then she saw them. During her visits to the Rosebud River Pack.
Twin Alphas, radiant with strength, bodies thrumming with more life than they could ever exhaust. She spied on them as they took that naive little Eila, rough and ravenous, leaving her limp and trembling, yet still unsatisfied. They were fountains of vitality, overflowing with energy, and Valeria's breath caught as her lips curved into a slow, hungry smile. She kept standing in the shadows with her breath hitched and senses on fire.
She imagined their mouths against her skin, their bodies pressed into hers, their inexhaustible essence pouring into her. A low laugh, sultry and venomous, slipped from her throat. They would be hers. She would tear them away from the little fool who thought herself blessed, and she would bind them until her powers sang again in full, until her enemies bowed or bled.
And then, the hunger twisted darker. For beneath her decadent longing lay her true nature—not a lover, but a parasite. She fed not on passion but on lives, draining men until they lay cold and empty in her arms. She did not care for their eyes, wide and pleading, or their bodies convulsing under her touch. She cared only for the rush, the surge of power, the way their final breath tasted like wine on her tongue.
Eila's twin mates would be more than lovers. They would be her vessels, her chained wells of vitality, their youth bled into her by night after night until she was restored. Eila would be left broken, her bond stolen, her heart shattered, and Valeria would smile as she stepped over her tears.
The plan was almost laughably simple. She had already collected what she needed—hairs plucked from Eila when she fell asleep, the dress which she had left on the floor in fit of passion. She touched it with distaste but claimed nonetheless. The disguise would be flawless. They would never question their mate's scent, her touch, not until it was too late.
That night, her patience was rewarded. She watched as Eila slipped away from her mates, excusing herself softly, vanishing into the bathing chambers. Valeria's pulse quickened.
The moment had come.
Predator's hunger gleamed in her eyes. Soon, the Alphas' inexhaustible fire would be hers to drain.
And when she was done, there would be nothing left of Eila but silence.