Alyssa stabbed the deer heart with her silver fork, watching blood seep into the wolf-embroidered napkin. The chandelier's glare made her squint, yet Layne chose this moment to kneel with those damned blue roses—petals shimmering like moonlight-preserved poison.
"Shadowclaw's jewel, accept Nightwood's blessing." Layne's voice dripped honey, but his fingers brushed her silver bracelet too deliberately. The sting made her flinch. Third time he'd recoiled from silver. Her guardian wolf Alpha growled from the shadows, prompting Layne to offer the bouquet sideways: "Perhaps this warrior deserves..."
As the wolf's fangs grazed petals, the hall plunged into darkness. Shattering porcelain mingled with Layne's chuckle. When candles relit, Alpha was convulsing, spewing blood-tinged ice shards with blue petals glued to its rotting tongue.
"Medics!" Her father's roar shook the candelabras. Layne steadied her waist in the chaos, breath hot against her ear: "Pity. These were meant for you." Burn-like rashes flared on his wrist, vanishing when she looked again.
In the dungeon herbarium, Alyssa pressed blood-stained petals onto parchment. Moonflare erupted uncontrollably, this time shaping into a furious hawk that burned through three cabinets before she regained control. The apothecary barged in: "Mil shouldn't touch shadowvine, it awakens..."
Layne materialized in the doorway with fresh blue roses, his jugular pulsing unnaturally like a worm trying to burst through skin: "Darling, care to try flowers nourished by vampire blood?"