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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wife and family for always believing in and supporting me.

Chapter 1

W
ith each passing heartbeat everything
faded away. The once bright lights of the lamps were dim and grey. The figures around him became fuzzy and blurred. Connor’s tall athletic frame—normally muscular and solid—lay sprawled face-up. His jeans and white t-shirt were soaked with both the blood of his assailants and his own. Burning from the tear in his shoulder wasn’t even the worst part. The pain from the violent claw marks in his chest seemed to consume him. Breathing was painful and laborious.

A howl of agony along with a sickening crunch met his ears, and he knew the fight was over. Although broken and dying, he succeeded in saving them. The howl belonged to their last remaining attacker.

A small sense of satisfaction crept its way into his mind, but Connor knew he was dying. These would be his last moments on earth before he was thrust into the unknown. His eyes fought in vain to find her, to look on her one more time. Where was she? Blood fought its way up through his throat, blocking any chance for air. A violent cough raked his body and a new wave of pain threatened to steal his consciousness.

When he thought he had taken his last breath and was ready to give in to the open arms of the blackness, he heard her voice.

“Connor? Connor! No!”

Panting for breath, struggling to see her one last time, he forced his eyes to focus. She was there kneeling next to him, tears filling the most gorgeous pair of green eyes he’d ever seen. Gently, she lifted his head and laid it in her lap. Disregarding the dark blood that seeped from his wounds, she ran her fingers over his cheeks and through his thick hair, trying to soothe him.

“You’re going to be okay, Connor,” she whispered to him, tears running freely down her softly tanned skin. “I’m not going to let you die.”

“Laren, let him go. We owe him our thanks but there’s nothing we can do.”

“No,” Laren replied firmly, turning her gaze from Connor and fixing her older brother with a vicious stare. “He saved our lives!”

“Let him go. His kind are destined for this end.”

“I can’t. I won’t let him die.”

Her brother finally realized what she was going to do. “Laren, it is forbidden. Who are we to play God? If this is how he meets his end, then let him. You know the Law. You know the consequences.”

“And I accept them.”

Laren turned her attention back to Connor, her long brown hair brushing his face. “Connor, you’re special. You carry the gene in your blood,” she paused for a moment hoping her last statement was true. “I know you’re going to survive this. I’m going to save you. I need you to understand this process will be the worst pain you’ve ever experienced. I’ll be there for you every step of the way. I need you to know it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Connor managed a weak smile. “Sounds great.” The exertion of this simple statement brought on another savage bout of blood-filled coughs. His mind raced to catch up with his reality. Three days ago his biggest problem had been what college to attend or how to deal with his ex-girlfriend, now he was struggling to survive.

Three Days Ago

Connor Moore ran on one of his favorite trails in the Catskill Forest Preserve. The leaves of the trees lining the path shimmered in the bright June sun. Sparrows and rabbits went about their morning routines, ignoring him as if he were part of the forest and belonged among them. Connor lived a few hours away from the preserve in a suburb of New York City, but he loved nature enough that he was willing to get up at 6 a.m. to make the drive.

His black hair was matted with sweat. It gathered on his brow, threatening to blur his vision. Connor was used to physical exertion. Physical activity was therapeutic; it calmed a beast that sometimes raged to get out. Channeling this inner passion made him a true athlete. Once he learned to harness this intensity and use it as a tool rather than a hindrance, he was nearly unstoppable at any sport.

The forest was a haven for Connor. He listened to his favorite mix of rock and rap music on his iPod and ran his worries away. As an eighteen-year-old high school graduate, he had a lot on his mind. Not only was he worried about college and a career, his personal life seemed more confusing than ever.

Katie, his girlfriend of two years, broke up with him just before graduation. She was concerned that her moving away to college would make their relationship too hard to continue. On top of all of that, Katie said the worst thing a girl can say after breaking up with her boyfriend. She said she still wanted to remain “friends.” Connor couldn’t grasp the concept that two people who had felt so much for each other could just turn those emotions off and be completely platonic.

As he pushed his body to run faster, Connor replayed the conversation in his head.

“You know I love you, Connor. I’m doing this for us. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because it doesn’t have to be like this. We can make this work. Things are great between us and I don’t want to lose you.”

Katie sighed, her blue eyes looking sadly into his. “If it was meant to be, then—things will work out. I know you and I are supposed to be together. That’s why this is all going to work. You and I are going to be hundreds of miles away from each other focusing on school. Don’t think of it as a break-up, instead think of it as a break. We can still be friends. That will never change.”

Connor shook his head. He knew she’d made up her mind and he wasn’t one to beg. “Friends, huh?”

“Friends,” she agreed. “We can still talk and hang out before I leave for school, and I’ll be there if you ever need me.”

Connor ran faster, just shy of a full sprint. What did “just friends” mean, anyway? In the months since their break-up, Connor and Katie talked on the phone and even saw each other a few times, but there was no denying it was very different now. Where once warm hugs and kisses passed freely, now awkward embraces and unsure high fives took their place.

With his frustration rising over the whole ordeal, he forced himself to a sprint, losing himself in the feeling of pushing his body to its limit. His favorite place was the line between what his body told him he couldn’t do and what his inner drive told him was possible. Having already run for forty minutes, his body insisted on a rest. His legs burned, his lungs screamed for more air, and his heart felt as though it might pound out of his chest.

At this point most athletes would take a break, but not Connor. Now he called on his beast within—that power, that drive—that would not let him fail. Legs pumping, he flew through the forest. Nothing else existed except the amount of effort he could put forth. Gone were the worries of being a teenager, gone were the nagging questions he didn’t have answers to and instead there was something he could control. He could push himself harder, and when his body asked him to stop, he could provide a simple answer, “No.”

After a few minutes of this dead sprint, Connor slowed down to give his body a much-needed rest. Laughter rang out from his heaving chest, he was never happier than when he allowed himself to lose control. He loved the feeling of freedom. Alone in the woods, he let himself revel in the joy.

Jogging over to a worn wooden bench, he removed his earphones and began to stretch his aching muscles. As his body recovered from the run, Connor lapsed in being conscious of his surroundings. The sound of a snapping twig made him jump. He turned and saw a female figure standing behind him.

She was about his own age, and dressed in a knee-length black business suit. Lightly tanned, she had long brown hair that fell in soft curls and the most intense green eyes he’d ever seen.

Neither one of them spoke for what seemed an eternity. She finally broke the silence.

“Stare much?”

Still pouring sweat and panting, Connor searched for words. “I… I was running and… I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He was shocked not only by her presence but by her sarcasm.

“Do you usually laugh when you stop to take a break?”

Connor stood up straight, wiped the sweat from his forehead and gathered himself. “Only if it’s a really good run.”

She nodded slightly as if she understood.

“I’m Connor.” Walking toward her, he extended a hand.

“Connor, I’m Laren, and I’d love to shake your hand but—” Glancing at his sweaty palm, she raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused smile.

“Oh, right,” Connor said, lowering his hand and wiping the perspiration on his already soaked hoodie. “What are you doing out here? It seems like the wrong place for someone dressed so nicely.”

“Apparently. I was supposed to meet someone here for a business meeting. He didn’t show.”

Connor was about to ask what type of business meeting would take place in the forest but instead was drawn to her necklace. The bronze emblem that hung from the gold chain around her neck was a symbol he had never seen before. It looked to be a family heirloom, hundreds of years old.

Noticing his gaze on her necklace, she looked down and cupped the small symbol in her hand. “It was a gift from my father.”

“It looks great on you.”

“Well, thank you, Connor.” She searched him up and down. “Your running shoes look… quite becoming on you as well.”

They both smiled at this and shared a laugh.

“Where are you from, Laren?”

“New York mostly. And you?”

“Same, born and raised. I love it, but sometimes it can be overwhelming and I need to get away. So I come here.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Laren said.

“It is… everything about it,” he said more to himself than to Laren.

Laren looked at him and as their eyes met, she blushed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just meant—”

“No,” she stopped him. “That was a very sweet thing to say.”