"She was boring, anyway. Kept crying about wanting to go home." He leaned up on one arm. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

I approached him slowly, trailing my hands across the silk that covered my stomach, my breasts, then the bare skin over my collarbones. "I've missed you."

Suspicion clouded his eyes. "I thought you didn't like me very much. Those were your words, were they not?"

"Maybe I don't like you. I might just be here for sex." My body throbbed at the thought. I looked down the length of his body and saw he was just as hungry for me, despite his previous encounter. "You want something more, I can tell."

I stepped to the edge of the bed, ignoring the blood on the carpet at my feet. "Maybe I do."

He smiled, flashing the tips of his fangs, which had not yet retracted since his feeding. The vampiric feature in his otherwise normal face made him seem more dangerous than usual. "Is this something I can give you?"

I feigned helplessness. "I don't know. It could be."

"Everything comes at a price, Carrie." He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Taking a deep breath, I hiked my nightgown above my knees with one hand and gently pushed him to the bed with the other. I straddled him, lifting the silk to my waist, and guided his erection into my body.

He moaned and I gasped as I sank down his cold length. I lifted my hips, letting him slip almost completely out, and pressed my throat to his mouth.

The change came over him almost immediately as he pierced my neck. I forced myself to concentrate on the feeling of him inside me, the sensations that made my head swim, so he wouldn't see the true reason for the favor I would ask.

Or the pain that suddenly knifed through my heart.

This would be the last time we'd be together. I don't know why it bothered me so much. I blamed all the feelings I had for him on the blood tie. But maybe that blame had been misplaced. Maybe I really did care for him. But the decision had already been made. I'd promised Nathan, and I had a duty to protect Ziggy. There was no changing my mind now. If I grieved for Cyrus in the end, it would be my burden to bear.

I rose on my knees, letting just the tip of him rest against me. He strained up from the bed, trying to reenter me. I made a move to get off him completely, and he stopped fighting.

"You're trying to hide from me," he whispered, leaning up to run his tongue over the scar he'd created on my neck. "But you aren't strong enough. I can see what you want. Say it."

My hands shook as I stroked his hair back from his forehead. Was this a trick? How much did he really see? "I want to choose who the Soul Eater gets."

His body went still at the words, and for a moment, I thought he would turn me down. Or worse, reveal that he'd seen through my ruse and kill me on the spot.

Wrapping his powerful arms around me, he flipped me onto my back and filled me in one, brutal thrust. "Whatever my princess wants."

I suppose I should have felt like a total whore at this moment, but my relief was so overwhelming I almost laughed. I threw my head back and surrendered to the feeling of my sire's hands on me, his cock filling me. When I came, I shouted so loud I was sure I'd woken the entire household.

Cyrus finished soon after, collapsing on top of me with a smile.

"Saturday will be a night to remember," he rasped against my cheek.

A tear fell from my eye.

You have no idea.

Seventeen

Happy New Year

When I woke the next night, Cyrus was gone. I curled into the space he'd vacated, expecting warmth but finding none. Of course. Vampire. No body heat. I sat up, chuckling at my stupidity, but my good mood vanished at the sight of Dahlia leaning against the closed door.

"What are you doing?" I pulled the sheets up to my chest and groped through the bedclothes for my nightgown.

Dahlia's face was emotionless, and she didn't make eye contact with me. "Do you love him?"

I had no idea what to say that wouldn't set her into a flying rage. I hoped the truth was good enough. "No."

"Then why are you still here?" She kicked the door with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"I can't leave."

"I wish you could." She laughed, not in the crazy way I'd heard before, but in a dry, bitter laugh of weariness. "I wish I could."

"You can." I felt a little guilty for lying to her. In less than twenty-four hours, I planned to have her fed to the Soul Eater. I bolstered my resolve by remembering the time she'd stabbed me in the gut, burned down my apartment, attacked Nathan, and the fact she was pretty much the reason I was stuck here.

She looked me straight in the eye. "Are you familiar with the Stockholm Syndrome?"

Am I ever. I nodded. "It's when the victim of a hostage situation forms an attachment to her captor."

"You probably think that's what's going on here, right?" She ran a hand over her mussed curls.

"Maybe," I said quietly, reaching for Cyrus's robe at the end of the bed.

Her eyes dropped to the black silk in my hands, and narrowed when I pulled the robe over my shoulders. But she didn't move from the door, or cease her cadenced kicking. "You don't know shit about why I'm here."

"Dahlia," I began, wetting my parched lips. I needed to feed, and soon. Her plump neck was beginning to look far too good for my liking. "Are you in love with Cyrus?"

"I didn't know he was a vampire. Not before." She pressed her palm to her forehead as tears slid down her face. "He told me he loved me."

I tied the robe and hurried from the bed over to her. I didn't know what else I could do but stand beside her and offer a shoulder to cry on in her misery. "He probably did-does-love you."

She sniffled. "He was fascinated with me, with my power. And now I'm trapped here."

"He's afraid of you," I blurted. Her face was the picture of hopelessness, and it broke my heart. As much as I disliked Dahlia, I sympathized with her. "He's afraid of your power. That's why he won't turn you."

"I know," she snapped. "But that doesn't help me, does it."

"It could. There are going to be a hundred vampires here tomorrow night. If you could find just one of them to turn you, you could get away from Cyrus." The thought of Dahlia with unlimited power smacked me in the cerebral cortex about a half a second too late. But the words were already out there and I couldn't take them back. To my relief, she shook her head and her old venom returned. "Right. Because it's so easy to just get a vampire to make a fledgling."

I couldn't help my sarcastic reply. "It was for me."

In an instant, her hand left a stinging impression on my cheek. Her eyes flashing with rage, she whirled around and waved at the air as though she were batting away a fly. The door flew back, practically tearing off the hinges, and she stalked into the dark anteroom.

Trembling, I pulled Cyrus's robe tighter around me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd either just performed an incredible act of mercy or made a huge mistake.

Saturday night arrived with a flurry of flamboyantly gay party planners and confused teenagers who thought they'd been invited to a rave. The former were led quietly around the side of the mansion to set up a garden party in nearly freezing temperatures, and the latter were lured into the house with promises of alcohol and social drugs. Ziggy and I stood on the balcony in the foyer and watched as guards herded a group of the hapless victims toward the cellar.

"So I'm basically toast, is that what you're telling me?" Ziggy wore a neatly pressed dress shirt and slacks, a stylish black tie draped around his neck. Even with the change in wardrobe, he looked antisocial and slightly intimidating. But not to those who knew him well. I could practically see the word fear written across his forehead.

I hoped he didn't share my keen insight. I wouldn't seem so reassuring if he could tell my insides shook like barren branches in the winter wind. "You're not toast. I get to pick who the Soul Eater takes. Cyrus will turn Dahlia, and then he'll throw you to the crowd. It's all very simple."

"Right." Ziggy stretched the word out. "Thrown on the mercy of hungry vampires. And yet I'm somehow missing the part where I'm not toast."

"You know how to fight, and Nathan will get here in time. Don't worry about it. I'm not." I was, but there was no point letting him know that.

"What about the secret service down there?" Ziggy pointed toward the guards below. "Nate and those guys can't touch them.

They're human."

"Then they'll be easier to subdue," I pointed out. "Besides, there aren't many of them here tonight." It was a protective measure, Clarence had told me before he'd left for the guardhouse earlier in the evening. Fewer humans meant less chance of a feeding frenzy. Most of the guards had been dismissed already. The mansion now ran with a skeleton crew on hazard pay.

It seemed a little strange that Cyrus would leave the party so vulnerable. Of course, there was the Soul Eater's own security team.

They were apparently scary enough that Cyrus felt comfortable entrusting them to guard a house full of Movement exiles on the most notorious night of the year.

Again, another fact Ziggy didn't need to worry about. "Now, get back to the room before somebody mistakes you for cattle."

His eyes were fixed on the herd in the foyer. "You'd think someone would miss these kids."

"I guess he moves the party around every year. He said he can't stay in one place for long without people getting suspicious."

Then the sadness in Ziggy's words made me realize he wasn't referring to the teenagers below us. "Nathan does miss you. He loves you."

"Yeah, well. I guess we'll find out tonight, huh?" With a grimace, he shoved off the banister and headed toward the hallway.

I wanted to follow him, to go into my room, lock the door and sleep wherever I fell. I'd spent the day with a pillow over my head, trying to drown out the sound of Cyrus cursing and shouting in his room as he agonized over every new development, from parking to table decorations, until I was as stressed about the party as he was.

If he thought things were going badly now, I couldn't wait to see how he reacted when his uninvited guests showed up.

There was no telling how events would turn out. In just a few hours I could be safely away from this house and all the temptation inside. Or I could be dead. Ziggy could be dead. Cyrus could be dead. Hell, we could all be dead at the same time from some freak accident. I wasn't ruling anything out.

To get my mind off such grim meditations, and because guests had begun to arrive, I went to my room to dress in the new gown Cyrus had bought me for the occasion. When Clarence had delivered the garment, all my bad feelings about the night had multiplied. It was a floor-length, red-and-black ball gown with thin shoulder straps and a tiered tulle skirt. I'd quickly zipped up the garment bag and assured myself it wasn't so bad.

I was wrong. In fact, it was much worse on second observation.

"I'm going to look like a ballerina from hell," I whined out loud as I picked at the sequined bodice.

Not to mention the fact that running-hell, even standing-in the shoes he'd bought to match would be impossible, at best.

I pulled the offending footwear from the box with a frown. I slipped the patent leather pointe slippers onto my feet and wrapped the deep red ribbons around my calves. They would have been comfortable if it weren't for the tall spiked heel that ensured I stood on perfect tiptoe.

I teetered into the sitting room where Ziggy stood like a real gentleman, an expression of pure disbelief on his face. "You look really good."

"Thanks." I touched my hair self-consciously, checking to make sure the long, blond strands remained in the French braid I'd put them in. "I feel like a clown."

"You look like a Goth boy's wet dream. Hell, I'd go straight if you made an offer right now."

For a moment, his wicked smile reminded me so much of Nathan it seemed impossible they weren't blood related. "I'll take that as a compliment. And I'll pass."

There was a soft knock at the door. I called out permission to enter, expecting Clarence.

One of the guards opened the door instead. "The Master wants you in the foyer, so you can greet his father."

I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my skirt. "The Soul Eater is here?"

"Master Seymour is in transit," the man corrected me in a warning tone.

"Fine," I replied with an equally stony glare. "I'll be down in a minute."

The door closed, but I knew the guard waited outside. I motioned Ziggy closer. "When they bring you down for the party, stay close to me, because-"

"Because I'm your life insurance policy. I know, I know." He blew out a long breath. "You're not going to change your mind at the last minute and let them eat me, right?"

"I wasn't planning on it." My heart felt like a solid mass of lead in my chest, and I reached out impulsively to hug him.

His back tensed beneath my arms as his breath hitched. The little boy that still lived in some deeply buried part of him appreciated the comfort. But I wouldn't offer him empty reassurances. I had no idea what would happen, and I wouldn't pretend to. "I've got to go downstairs."

I wouldn't allow myself to look back as I went to the door. The guard waited to escort me, as though I didn't know the way on my own. He walked fast and didn't offer me his arm, so I kept up as best as I could without spraining my ankles.

Teetering precariously down the stairs, I caught a glimpse of the guests that were gathered in the foyer. Vampires of various ages chattered among themselves in excitement. Everywhere I looked I saw expensive fur and jewels in exotic styles. Even the Fangs seemed to have dressed for the occasion, though they probably would still be kicked out of higher-end truck stops for breaching the dress code.

Cyrus stood at the front doors. I couldn't see his face, but I felt his excitement at the prospect of reuniting with his father, and the nagging fear that something seemed out of place, that something wouldn't go right. I pushed through the crowd with an air of confidence. It wouldn't do any good to let him sense my own anxiousness and have all of Nathan's planning go down the drain at the eleventh hour.

I wobbled on my spiky heels and fell against a slender vampire with a bald head. Two small horns protruded from his forehead, and his thin black mustache quirked in annoyance. He looked like the cartoon devil on a package of Red Hots. "Excuse me," I said, struggling to right myself and not stare.

When I finally reached his side, Cyrus slipped his arm around my waist. He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. "You look lovely."

"Thanks. But maybe next time you could let me pick the footwear." I peeked distractedly at the vampires around us. "Who are all these people?"

He waved dismissively. "Friends of Father's, friends of mine. Allies, acquaintances. The Fangs."

I smiled at the disgust in his voice. "Aw, but they're wearing their Sunday best. Are they all vampires?"

"Yes, but some are mutts."

"Mutts?" I looked back at the horned man. "As in mixed with something else?"