Roman sheathed his sword, a dead ravager at his feet. At least no one died. One sliced up Braun pretty good when three of them broke through the west side. The lad would be fine in a day or two. There were a few humans who would be turned who had been marked as feeders because of mortal wounds received in the fight. One good thing about being a vampire was their unnatural healing ability. A deadly wound for a human was a scratch to them.

He walked through the camp, checking on people. Several of the humans, while still terrified of him, had grateful looks on their faces. He and his warriors had saved them from the ravagers. Roman had to wonder just how much the Regent's guard let them fend for themselves, especially those outside of the failing barrier. Ivan wasn't a bad man. Roman sensed the Regent's burning desire to protect his people. The guards, however, were lazy idiots. He'd guess they rarely lifted a hand to do much of anything toward protection. The Regent's inability to see what was happening within his own brotherhood of warriors rested squarely on the man's shoulders. It made him a weak leader. Refusing to see problems helped no one.

The girl had balls, though. Her bravery impressed him. She'd stood her ground and fought against a ravager. That tiny little bit of fluff standing up to a ravager. He smiled just thinking of it. She'd stood up to him too. Not many dared to do that, but she only gave him sass. Granted, she'd been about to pass out from blood loss. Roman had no doubt if she'd been at her full faculties, she'd have ripped into him for the slur against her father. The girl was loyal to a fault.

Greggor fell into step beside him, cleaning his sword. "Three will need to be turned. There is no saving them."

Roman nodded. "I suspected as much. Have we swept the outskirts for any more surprises?"

"I did it myself. We'll have no more unexpected visitors this night."

"How many more were there?"

"Two." Greggor sheathed his sword and rolled his massive shoulders. "It was to be expected with this many humans out in the open. We knew their scent would draw them like bees to honey."

One trait the vampires shared with the ravagers was their need for fresh blood. Human blood had a distinct smell and taste. Roman had been born a vampire, but Greggor had not. His brother explained to him that blood tasted differently to him now. Before it had been a tinny, coppery taste, but after the change it took on the flavors of some of Greggor's favorite sweet treats. Roman often laughed when Greggor tried to explain. He'd get all goofy talking of his family's Christmas sticky buns. Roman remembered them, but to him, blood had tasted better.

"Roman!"

They turned to see Jackovyn running toward them, his face a mask of fear. He and Greggor exchanged curious glances. Jackovyn was not one given to worrying about much of anything. It wasn't in his nature. The sky could be falling around him and he'd be laughing.

He stopped in front of them, out of breath. "Roman...something..."

"Take a deep breath, man," Greggor said.

Jackovyn took several deep breaths. "Delia needs you. Something is wrong with one of the turns."

"Wrong?"

"There was a fight...some of its blood got in her mouth during the turn. Delia's scared."

Roman took off at a dead run. He didn't know what if any effect the blood would have on the girl's turn, but if it combined with the vampire virus? She could turn out to be a deadly killing machine with no conscience and only a thirst for blood. Or she could be just fine. Either way, he needed to see this for himself.

Delia met him outside the tent. Her face was white, her eyes wide and frightened. Delia was the toughest woman he knew. She never showed any kind of fear, but terror came off her in waves. He smelled it.

"Tell me."

"It's doing something to her." She wrung her hands and looked over her shoulder. "She doesn't smell right, Roman."

He stepped past her into the tent. The soft glow of the lantern illuminated the girl. She twisted and turned, her mouth open in a silent scream. Not unusual for a turn. They went through quite a bit of pain as their body rearranged its DNA to that of the vampire. What brought him up short was who lay bound hand and foot in front of him.

"Delia!"

Delia stepped inside, hesitant to come any closer to the girl.

"Who brought this girl here?" Fury encased his voice.

"A guard. He said she wasn't to go to feeders. It was on the orders of the Regent."

Roman snarled. The man truly had no honor. He'd given his own daughter to the slaughter. He knelt and studied her. He leaned in close and sniffed her. It nearly knocked him off his feet. He'd smelled her earlier when he'd taken her home. Vanilla. It stayed with him all day. She still smelled of vanilla, but there was something more. He leaned closer, burying his nose in her neck. It was rich, dark, and heady. He pushed closer, his tongue swiping at her skin. Her taste invaded his mouth and he almost groaned at the sheer pleasure. He forced himself to lean back and take a good look at her. Hair darker than the darkest night hung in heavy waves around her face. Her eyes were closed, but he remembered them. Green, like the fields he'd played in as a boy. Her face seemed to be luminous even in the shadowy light of the lantern. He'd thought her beautiful before, but now her face looked almost angelic. Their blood didn't enhance a person's appearance. It made them faster, stronger, and almost impossible to kill, but it didn't make them beautiful. The ravager's blood seemed to be enhancing her beauty, making her even more appealing to her prey. Her scent too, he admitted. All he wanted to do right now was lean back down and breathe her in.

He could sense her body adapting to its new makeup like any new turn. Pain etched itself on her face, the sheer horror of what was happening to her painted on the canvas of her expression. Delia was right, though. This virus bonded with the ravager's blood.

"Roman?"

His stood and faced Delia and Greggor, who gasped when he got a good look at the girl.

"Isn't that the Regent's daughter? The one we delivered to him?"

"Aye."

"The Regent's daughter?" Delia whispered. "He gave us his own child?"

"He is weak." Roman dismissed the man. "You're right about the girl. The blood is affecting our virus. I think it's bonding to it, creating something new."

Delia crossed herself. Roman snorted. He no longer believed in any God, but his sister did. How, he had no idea. If there was a God, he'd long since deserted the two of them. "We need to watch her closely..."

"Nay!" Delia shook her head. "We need to kill her now, before she wakes."

"And why would we do that, little sister?"

"She's an abomination! Roman, her blood is dirty, unclean. She has that thing inside of her. When she wakes, she could kill us all!"

He glanced down at the girl, twisting in agony. Delia could be right, but the thought of harming this girl didn't sit well with him. It made him restless, uneasy. Delia took a step toward them, and he found himself bracing his body for a fight. It caused his sister to stop. She looked shocked, but he couldn't explain his reaction.

"Roman, you need to think about this." Greggor stepped closer, but kept out of range of his fists. "We don't know what she'll be like when she wakes up."

"Exactly." Roman kept his tone even. A plan had started to form the moment he realized what was happening to her. She could be the answer to all their problems. "We don't know. I'm not going to murder the best potential weapon we've had in over a hundred years."

Greggor cocked his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

"You saw her magic, brother. The virus is mutating, making her...something more. Look at her. Smell her. When she wakes up, we might have a deadly hybrid that can gain back the crown for us—part witch, part vampire, and part ravager."

"Or we might have a killing machine who will wipe out this entire camp!" Delia hissed. "It cannot be allowed!"

"Isn't that what mortals have said about us for thousands of years?" Roman asked. "We've been hunted, maligned, nearly wiped off the planet all because we were different. You would condemn this girl when you have fought so hard to show humans we are not the monsters they think we are?"

"This is different," she protested.

"How?" Roman locked eyes with his sister. She would not win this fight. No one was going to harm the girl.

"Because we aren't monsters."

"And you're sure that she'll be a monster?"

"Can we really take that chance? There are children here, Roman. Children!"

He looked to Greggor, who had remained silent. His expression was troubled, but Roman could see the wheels turning in his head. He was thinking this through. Hopefully he'd have at least one person on his side. Once the camp discovered what was going on, he feared they'd all react much like Delia. The unknown was always scary, and when you added in ravagers, you got a lot of chaos and sheer terror.

"I think we should at least wait and see what happens when she wakes up." Greggor stepped closer, his hazel eyes alight with questions. "Roman's right. She might be useful in gaining back everything that was taken from both of you."

"Have you both lost your damn minds?" she screeched.

"Quite possibly." Greggor gave her a cheeky grin and plopped a kiss on her cheek.

Delia threw her hands up and stomped out. Roman had no doubt she'd run and start blabbing to everyone, trying to get support for her cause. Little good it would do her. He had no intention of losing the girl unless it was absolutely necessary.

"And if she wakes up a madwoman?" Greggor looked at him, intent. "What then?"

"Then I'll put her down myself."

***

Red.

A burning sea of red and black. The colors swirled around Katyia, violent and persistent. She cried, she called out for her father. She hurt. Everywhere. It was as if someone picked her up, plopped her in a vat of acid, and then wrung her out like a wet rag. There wasn't anywhere on her body that didn't hurt.

What hell did she land in? Hands grabbed her, held her down. She thrashed, trying to get away. Oh, God, the pain. Please, please make it stop. More hands forced her mouth open, and then something warm hit her tongue and made a slow trek down her throat. A moan fell off her lips. The liquid soothed the fire inside, making the pain bearable.

"We can't bleed them all dry for her."

Katyia tried to open her eyes, but she was still too weak. What were they talking about? And who were they?

"Then we'll feed her ourselves."

"Roman, our people are not going to..."

"You and I will feed her, then."

More of that soothing liquid hit her mouth and she sighed in relief. The fire melting her from the inside out cooled and some of the pulsing colors dimmed. The horrific images kept playing over and over through her mind, though. Nothing stopped the images of people being ripped to shreds, of demonic creatures laughing while they tortured poor, innocent souls. Dear God, why was she seeing this?

"Hold her still," someone hissed.

"It's not that easy." A grunt sounded close to her ear. "The girl is going through hell. She'll feel like she's being burned from the inside out. Pain unlike anything you've ever known, Roman, is eating her alive. Her mind is creating images of death and torment. It's the only way it knows how to deal with what's happening. This isn't an easy process. She can't just lie quietly while we feed her."

"That's what you felt when I turned you?"

"Aye." Katyia felt herself being lifted. "We'd best get her somewhere safe while she's calm. Delia will have them riled up good by now. She's out for blood."

"We'll take her to my tent." His voice sounded familiar. Where had Katyia heard it?

"When she wakes..."

"We'll deal with it when she wakes." The coldness in his voice frightened Katyia. What would happen? Didn't they realize she was awake now? Only she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes or speak. She was exhausted and in a lot of pain. Delusional too. For all she knew, the conversation wasn't real either.

Another round of pain hit her hard. She convulsed and screamed. Hands fought to keep her still. Colors exploded behind her eyes. Red and black danced along her field of vision. Pain and death. Fire raced through her, scorching every part of her body it touched. Her subconscious balked at the assault on her and did the only thing it could to protect her. She blacked out.