"Good morning to you, too," said Augustin, unable to mask the amusement in his voice. However, he had to grit his teeth when he felt the barrel pressed further against his skull. "I would like to ask you to remove this object from my skull so that we can proceed to a verbal exchange as any normally constituted and civilized person would." Augustin, whose eyes had begun to cloud over with a dark film, had almost felt relief when the person had removed the barrel from his head. "Finally, a reasonable person," he couldn't help thinking. Then he gently raised his hands in the air, showing his good faith, and resumed an immobile posture. "May I turn around now, or would you prefer it if we talked like this?" the vampire asked. Augustin didn't have to move to hear the crunching of branches and dead leaves to his side. He remained perfectly still and even had the courtesy to stay unmoved when he saw the older man standing in front of him. "Is that not our dearest François? I have not see

Augustin finally arrived at the wood. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He took off his coat, folded it, and let it hang over his arm. Then he began to walk, keeping his eyelids closed. With every step, the vampire knew he was getting closer to his adopted daughter. It had been ages since he'd seen her in person. And yet, every cell in his body was now telling him where he could find her. That was the peculiarity of vampire families. Whenever a vampire sharing the same blood entered another's territory, the latter immediately knew that one of his own was coming to meet him. Among other things, this prevented a rude welcome and, above all, ensured that his arrival was announced in the proper manner. Augustin slowly opened his eyes again. As his gaze fell on the path before him, he bit his thumb, piercing the alabaster skin to extract a drop of blood. As soon as the red bead had formed on the pad of his finger, it stretched and rose to take on the appearanc

Augustin only had to follow the sound of voices to reach the half-open bedroom door. A cushion lay just outside the doorway, and he had only to bend down to pick it up and tuck it under his elbow. Then he knocked gently on the doorframe and had to use all his self-control not to run to his adopted daughter's side. He knew she was suffering, which was enough to alarm him. But now, seeing her so pale and with dark circles around her eyes, he felt as if a bucket of ice water had just been poured over his head. Emmanuelle was in bed, leaning against a pile of cushions. She was covered by a thick, soft yellow blanket with lavender motifs painted on it. Next to her, on her bedside table, was a porcelain basin of water, with a cloth hanging from it, still damp from its last use. When Emmanuelle's eyes fell on him, Augustin felt a lump in his throat. As a result, he rushed towards her as soon as she reached out her hand. He had almost fallen to his knees, too worried to see her so weak wh

The patriarch was furious and knew it would be best for him to withdraw quickly, or he'd risk tarnishing his relationship with his adopted daughter forever. He could hear her whim to drink only the blood of her beloved. But it was inconceivable to him that she would continue to be stubborn when she knew what was at stake. "More than two millennia, and you still have not understood that what is important to you is not necessarily important to others," Augustin murmured, looking out. He sighed deeply, trying to chase away his frustration, but without succeeding. The comforting scent of coffee guided Augustin into the kitchen.Once inside the room's large entrance frame, the ancient vampire stopped dead in his tracks and took a moment to gaze at the human in front of him. Bianca was arranging two empty cups on a wooden tray. She moved around easily, opening and closing cupboards to grab sugar, milk, cookies, and chocolates without realizing someone had just joined her in the kitchen.

The medical team in charge of monitoring Red Moon Alpha was on the warpath. Doctors and nurses were running around trying to revive their pack leader as quickly as possible. One nurse had started standard cardiopulmonary resuscitation in waiting for the defibrillator to be set up while his colleagues were busy getting emergency care up and running. Jason, the pack's healer, knew that at this stage, his healing gift would be of no use. He had positioned himself in front of the feet of his Alpha's body and put his hands forward to try and make direct contact with the big red wolf. His eyes had gone completely white as his own wolf cried in his mind, looking for an answer from his pack leader. This was the difference between a doctor and a healer. Where the medical profession relied on science and research, healers served as amplifiers for the wolves sharing their hosts' souls. The mere presence of a healer accelerated the healing process of an injured werewolf. But at that very mo