The moon hung low over Willow Hollow.
Jace Cross adjusted his gloves and stared at the
new recruit pacing like a caged animal in the g
ym’s back room.
“You’re not going to bite me, are you?” Jace ask
ed, arms crossed.
“I’d have to get close for that,” the vampire sa
id, voice smooth as bourbon and twice as dangero
us.
Jace raised an eyebrow.
“Let’s start with handtohand. Unless you’re too
used to playing secret agent in the shadows.”
The vampire smirked.
“Secret agent? That was the 1940s.”
Jace’s gut twisted.
“You were there?”
“Long story. One you’ll learn if you survive the
next month.”
Jace rolled his shoulders.
“I’ve trained Navy SEALs. You don’t scare me.”
The vampire stepped into his space, eyes flashin
g crimson.
“That’s the problem, werewolf. You should.”
Jace didn’t flinch.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They circled.
Then the vampire moved—blurfast, silent as a sha
dow.
Jace barely dodged the strike, twisting and slam
ming an elbow into the vamp’s ribs.
He felt the impact, but no grunt.
No weakness.
Only a low chuckle.
“Good. You’re not completely hopeless.”
Jace narrowed his eyes.
“This isn’t just training, is it?”
“No,” the vampire said. “It’s a test.”
“For what?”
“To see if you’re ready for the war coming back.
”
Jace froze.
“What war?”
The vampire’s expression darkened.
“The one that never ended. Just slept.”
Rain began to patter against the gym windows.
Jace didn’t look away.
“You’re talking Cold War ghosts.”
“Not ghosts,” the vamp said. “Old debts. And you
’re the collateral.”
Jace exhaled slowly.
“Then why train me?”
“Because you’re mine.”
Silence.
Jace’s pulse skipped.
His wolf stirred, not in anger—but recognition.
Fated mates.
No.
He didn’t believe in that crap.
But the vampire’s gaze held something older than
time, and something softer than steel.
“You’re wrong,” Jace muttered.
“I’ve never been more right,” the vamp said.
Jace turned away.
“I’m just a trainer from a deadend town.”
“Exactly why you’ll survive.”
Jace shook his head.
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
“No,” the vampire said. “But fate did.”
They stood in silence.
Then the vamp extended a hand.
“Your first mission starts at dawn.”
Jace stared at it.
“Where?”
“Campus. Someone’s selling classified bioweapon
data to an old Nazi splinter group.”
Jace blinked.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. And they think you’re just a smalltown gu
y teaching selfdefense.”
Jace finally met his eyes again.
“And you?”
“I know better.”
Something in Jace’s chest warmed.
Against his better judgment, he took the vampire
’s hand.
“Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”
The vampire grinned.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Outside, thunder cracked.
Inside, the two of them stood shoulder to should
er.
Werewolf and vampire.
Smalltown trainer and Cold War relic.
Fated mates.
The mission had just begun.
