Balthasar’s voice was a cobra’s hiss. “You would do well to release me.”
“You’d do well to remember where you are. In my House, in my city, surrounded by my people.”
“Your people?” Balthasar said. “I made you, mon ami, and a continent will not sever the bond between us. They are mine as much as yours.”
“You misunderstand the nature of things.” Holding Balthasar back with one arm, Ethan pulled a small dagger from his jacket with his free hand, held it in front of Balthasar’s face.
“They are my people, every one of them, blood and bone, mind and soul. I will warn you once, and only once, to stay away from them. I am not the child you once knew. My priorities have changed, as has my willingness to act.”
This was Ethan at his fiercest. If there’d been any doubts that vampires were alpha predators, the swirling fury in his eyes, the gleaming fangs would have erased them.
“Do yourself a favor,” Ethan said. “Leave Chicago tonight, and don’t look back.”
The office door burst open. Lindsey, Brody, and Kelley—another Cadogan guard—walked inside, swords in hand.
Ethan slammed the dagger into the wood beside Balthasar’s temple, where it vibrated with force. And still Balthasar’s expression didn’t change. “Bored contempt” seemed the most accurate description.
Ethan stepped back, kept his malevolent glare on his maker. “Get him out of here. Now.”
Balthasar stepped away from Ethan as the guards surrounded him.
“I will take my leave from your House tonight,” he said. “But I’m only just getting acquainted with your fair city.”
Luc gestured toward the door with his katana’s curving blade, and Balthasar followed without comment. But he turned back in the doorway, found my gaze.
“Our reunion, so sweet, has only just begun. Until we meet again.”
And then he disappeared.
* * *
“Have him followed,” Ethan told Malik. “Find out where he’s staying, who else knows he’s here. I want someone on him—vampire and human—at all times.”
Malik nodded, then rose and disappeared into the hallway to do a different kind of Master’s bidding.
Ethan, still across the room—the distance heavy between us—looked at me. “You’re all right?”
I swallowed, worked to collect my thoughts. “He glamoured me. He called me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be immune. I was immune.”
A line of worry between his eyes, Ethan moved to the small refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of blood, uncapped it, and brought it back to me. “Drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“The blood will help eliminate the remaining magic. Take it from someone who knows—you’ll feel more yourself afterward.”
“I don’t want—”
“Just drink the damn blood, Merit.” His tone was sharp, his words quick and angry.
“Why him? Why now, when I’ve been immune to everyone else?”
Ethan sighed, sat down beside me. “I’m not certain. He is powerful. A master manipulator. Perhaps his brush with death keened his abilities, or he practiced them in the intervening years. Or it could be the flavor of the magic.” He paused. “Or it could be my fault.”
I looked at him, saw the pinched fear and concern in his eyes. “What he did isn’t your fault.”
“Not Balthasar per se,” Ethan said. “Your reaction.” He pushed a lock of long, dark hair behind my ear, gaze tracking my face as if checking for injuries, evaluating my psyche. “The drugs. Your change.”
My transition to vampire hadn’t been easy or smooth. Ethan had made me a vampire to save me from an attack. A noble deed, I could recognize now, but at the time I hadn’t been able to consent. Feeling guilty about that, Ethan had given me drugs to help me through the cruelly painful transition. For most vampires, it was three days of bone-searing pain; for me, it was mostly a blur.
Unfortunately, in addition to protecting me from pain, it also kept me from fully transitioning to vampire, so my psyche was still split between human and vampire. They were slammed back together eventually, but maybe, as Ethan feared, there were other lingering effects, such as my immunity to glamour. And maybe Balthasar’s magic had been the hammer that slammed that sensitivity back into place.
“We’d always thought you’d just been stubborn,” Ethan said. “But perhaps the reasons were more fundamental than that.”
I heard the guilt in his voice. “No. Balthasar did this because he wanted to prove a point.”
“That he could get to you, and me,” Ethan agreed. “Glamour is a trait intended to entice and manipulate prey. That he used it against you, against both of us, was cruel. Drink,” he said again. “You’ll feel better. And you don’t want me to make you drink it.”
I glanced at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His expression didn’t change, so it seemed wise not to argue. I sat up and, with my eyes on him above the rim, drank.
He was right. It took the edge off, neutralized some of Balthasar’s discomforting effect on me.
When I drained the bottle, I handed it back to Ethan, and he put it aside. “Good,” he said. “Your color’s already coming back.”
“I didn’t mean to kiss him.” The words burst out in a bubble of sound, and even I could hear the strain of guilt in my voice. I hadn’t meant to kiss Balthasar, but in that moment, I’d desired nothing less. “I didn’t want to. Not really. I’d have done anything he asked. He had control over every part of me—mentally, emotionally, physically.”