Change of plans

The sword wasn’t going to help me. That much was clear. Not only was she leaps and bounds stronger than me, but I’d landed a solid blow against one of her wolf friends and hadn’t done a single point of damage.

If I was going to get out of this alive - and with the girls intact - I was going to need to change tactics.

I sheathed my blade and gave her a smile. “I’m sure you can find any old person out there to do whatever you say.”

If this was going to work, I was going to have to sell it. I needed to summon all the machismo I didn't actually have. Draw on every douche canoe I’d ever seen somehow pick up a woman despite how slimy they clearly were.

Honestly, I’d never understood why women fell for smarmy guys who only cared about sex. Guys who mistreated them. Used them as arm candy or for a one-night stand.

I wasn’t that guy.

I respected women. I cared about my partners. I put their needs above mine.

That was probably why I’d spent so much time single. Apparently, women wanted the complete opposite of me.

But I couldn’t be me right now. I didn’t have the luxury of being Mr. Nice Guy. If there was one way out of this, it had to be Mr. Confidence.

“But that’s not really what you want, is it?” I stepped closer. “You’ve had that all your life. And it’s grown old, hasn’t it? It’s not fun getting everything you want simply because you demand it. Not in the long run.”

She took an unconscious step backward.

“You’re looking for something different. Something you have to work for. Something that gets your blood pumping.” I closed the distance between us, until we were close enough that I could feel her breath. “And I’m that something.”

Her hand shot out and closed around my throat. She lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

Was that too far? Everything in me screamed to apologize. To tell her that wasn't who I really was.

Everything except the little part of my brain that noticed her pupils dilating as I approached. The part that noticed the tiny tremors running through her with each of my words. The part that noticed the way her breath caught when I invaded her personal space.

I grabbed her arm, but I didn't struggle as she held me there.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t flay the skin from your bones, mortal,” she asked. Her breath was shallow. Her nostrils flared as she caught my scent.

“Because then you’ll never get what you want,” I managed to choke out. “What you need.”

She dropped me.

I hit the ground hard, landing on my ass.

She turned her back on me again. “Girls. What do you think?”

The three wolves shifted. Their bones didn't crack. Their bodies didn't flow like water.

Instead, they simply changed their stance. The fur loosened until hands emerged from beneath it, almost as though sleeves were being pulled back. Their skin slid over them as if they had been women crawling on all fours with wolf pelts draped over their backs and shoulders.

As they stood, they swept their lupine heads backward, almost like pushing a hood off.

The fur smoothed and darkened until it became flowing black dresses.

The entire transformation took only seconds - barely longer than it would have taken them to stand normally.

When it was finished, a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead stood before me, their eyes still glowing crimson.

Each was beautiful in her own way. Not the unearthly beauty of their mistress, but the kind of beauty that looked almost deliberately selected from among the prettiest women in the world.

Unfortunately, their expressions were those of barely contained rage.

All had flawless skin like their mistress, except the blonde.

The skin along her left side was burned. It wasn't the horrific, melted appearance I'd expected from a serious burn, but the scars were unmistakable. Whatever had happened to her had been terrible.

“He dies,” the brunette said.

“Drain him dry,” said the redhead.

“Finish him, that I may have my revenge on those who scarred me.” The blonde didn't even look at me. Her hatred was focused entirely on Valentia and Ami.

I chuckled. “They did that to you?”

The blonde's red eyes snapped toward me.

I shook my head. “You don't need vengeance.” I smiled. “You need a babysitter.”

She rushed me.

I'd already started casting.

Spark Lance always cost me two mana. I couldn't actually feel the amount leaving me. I'd only figured that out after checking my character sheet.

Impulse was different. I instinctively knew that the more mana I poured into it, the greater the force became. So I dumped what I estimated was about a quarter of my mana into it - somewhere around nine points. It was, by far, the most mana I'd ever spent on a single spell.

The spell struck her and launched her backward.

She went flying through the forest.

“Quiet, now,” I called after her.

The only part of her I could see through the trees was the glow of her red eyes.

“The adults are talking.”

She launched herself back at me. She was almost too fast to follow. One moment she was somewhere in the darkness. The next, she had crossed the distance and reentered the dim circle of firelight.

“Stop.” The master vampire's command rang through the clearing like a crystal bell.

The blonde froze, her claws stopped inches from my throat.

I looked at her. “I've seen these two fight,” I said as I casually walked around her. “Any damage you suffered was clearly the result of your own incompetence.”

She growled as she turned to follow me with her eyes, but she didn't dare disobey her mistress.

“She must be exhausting.” I directed the words toward the raven-haired beauty commanding the others. “I hope the other two are better behaved.”

The vampire watched me intently as I approached.

“You don't need them to tell you what to do. They're beneath you. You're the one in charge.” I stopped a few feet away. “So it doesn't matter what they think.”

I held her gaze. “What matters is whether you're willing to do what it takes to get what you need.”

Her expression tightened.

“To feel that fire in your blood. The thing that reminds you that you're alive.”

“And what is that?” Her voice tried to remain confident and forceful. It came out softer than she intended. Almost uncertain.

I smiled. “Surrender yourself to me.”

She laughed. It was a throaty, sensual sound, clearly intended to reclaim control of the situation. “Me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Surrender to you?”

“Yes.” I let the word come out low and deliberate, pouring every ounce of confidence I had into it. “For tonight, let me show you what you've been missing all these years.” I stepped closer. “Or does the thought of something real scare you so much that you'd rather surround yourself with mediocrity?”

Her eyes flashed. “I could take it from you,” she hissed.

I reached up, caught her hair, and pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

Her body went still.

I leaned closer. “No,” I told her as I held her gaze. “You couldn't.”