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exposed fang. A chill went through Holden. Had Charlie’s fangs been out the whole time?
    No .
    In a movement fast enough Holden didn’t have time to shout a warning, Charlie seized Felicia, jerking her towards him and sinking his teeth into her throat so quickly she didn’t have a chance to scream.
    The bite was so ferocious he ripped her tender flesh open, sending a spray of blood across the front of Charlie’s white shirt. Droplets of red pebbled the ground at Holden’s feet.
    “All it was missing was the dramatic death sequence.” Charlie released Felicia, and she crumpled to her knees, one hand limply held over her neck. She let out a little oh sound, and blood poured down her front, staining her pale skin bright red and falling to the filthy sidewalk, forming a glinting ruby puddle around her.
    She stared at Holden, eyes wide with disbelief.
    “I came here to finish the job she started, but honestly, the expression on your face right now is worth so much more.” Charlie chuckled, then kicked Felicia in the back, sending her sprawling face first onto the street. She didn’t have the energy to keep herself upright. “I’d say your little hunter has a minute or two left, tops, brother. Time enough to open a wrist or get one last kiss in. Your call.”
    Seeing that he’d gotten blood on his shoes, Charlie sneered and wiped one against the side of Felicia’s leg.
    Holden, realizing Charlie had no intention of killing him now, sank to the ground next to Felicia, rolling her over in his lap and clamping his hand over the mess that was her open throat. Charlie was right. This wasn’t something a hospital could fix. She’d be dead within a minute if he didn’t help her.
    “Don’t think this thing between us is over,” Charlie said.
    Holden glared at him, baring exposed fangs. “This won’t be done until I see you dead.”
    Charlie’s lip curled. “Maybe your next protégée will fare better. I found this one lacking.”
    Before Holden could reply, his brother vanished down the subway steps. Holden’s whole body trembled with rage, but he tried to tamp it down so he could tend to Felicia.
    Her eyes were unfocused and her breaths coming up shorter with each one. Without stopping to consider the repercussions—certain exile from the council, possibly execution for both of them—he bit into his wrist, tearing open the artery. He held the wound to her mouth, oblivious to his own discomfort.
    “You have to drink,” he told her.
    Felicia’s mouth clamped shut, and she wrenched her head away as best she could with her restricted movement.
    “Felicia, drink . If you don’t drink, you’ll die.” He heard the naked desperation in his voice. His chest hurt from the effort to keep what he was feeling buried. He was failing miserably, because wave after wave of emotion kept crashing over him, threatening to take him under and never let him back up again. She had to drink. There was no other option. She had to. “ Please ,” he begged.
    “No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. The word was quiet enough at first he thought he was imagining it. But why would his imagination be so unkind?
    “Drink.”
    Weakly she pushed his hand away. “No.” This time the word was firm and loud enough he couldn’t pretend it had been something else.
    “Felicia, you need to do this. Don’t you get it? If you don’t take my blood, you can’t be fixed. I can save you, but you have to drink.”
    She shook her head, and the effort must have hurt her because she winced. “No,” she repeated.
    “Please,” he pleaded.
    She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly clear and focused. He lowered his wrist and stared at her for what felt like a lifetime, but what might end up being the rest of hers.
    “I can’t…” She grimaced and licked her lips before trying again. “I won’t be like you. Not…not after my sister. Not after…him.”
    “We’re not all monsters,” he urged.
    She met his gaze again and tried to smile,