The rest of the room stilled and quieted as the vampires watched us, probably waiting for cues—Should we jump the new girl? Mock her for wearing jeans and sneaks? Welcome her into the ancient brotherhood of vampires with a pancake breakfast and mixer?
Making some decision, the blond snapped his cell phone shut and walked toward us, his stride confident and swift. Each step seemed to make him more handsome—his perfectly sculpted features coming into sharper relief.
Before that moment, before watching him walk toward me, I’d been a normal girl. If I saw a boy I found attractive, I might smile. I might, on the rare occasion, say hello or give someone my phone number. I wouldn’t say I was forward, but I made a move when I was interested. But something about this boy, maybe mixed with the fact that I’d recently become a vampire, made every molecule in my body tingle. I wanted to sink my fingers into his hair and push my lips against his. I wanted to claim him for my own—the rising of some deep-seated, instinctual need. Time seemed to speed up, to zip by, my body driving me toward a fate my head didn’t understand. My heart thudded, hammerlike inside my chest, and I could feel the blood rushing through my veins.
Mallory leaned toward me. “FYI, your eyes are silver. I’ll just add ‘horny’ to the list of reasons that happens.”
I nodded absently.
My beautiful blond moved closer, until he stood in front of me, until, looking up, I could see the color of his eyes.
They were a deep, translucent, emerald green.
Impossibly green.
And as my heart sunk, I realized, familiarly green.
“Shit,” was all I could think to say.
Our rangy Beckham look-alike was my sworn enemy.
CHAPTER 3
YOU GOTTA FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT.
“Merit?”
Pulled from my fantasy by the sudden flood of adrenaline, I clenched my hands into fists. I’d heard about the fight-or-flight instinct—the animalistic drive to dig in and fight for survival or to run away, seek shelter or cover. Before tonight, it had always been an abstract construct. Biological trivia. But I felt it after the attack on our house, and as I faced Ethan Sullivan for the first time, I felt it intimately. Some previously absent part of my psyche awoke and began to evaluate surroundings, to debate whether to set heel to the ground and get as far away from him as possible, or face him, stand against him, and even if the effort was doomed, to see what I was made of.
This was one of those moments, I thought, one of those make-or-break moments that set the direction of your life, that remind you about courage and free will.
I felt a nudge at my ribs, and heard a fierce whisper. “Merit!” I looked beside me, where Mallory stood, eying me curiously. “Are you okay? Ethan was just saying hello. Did you have something you wanted to say to him, maybe regarding an eath-day eat-thray?”
I slid my gaze back to Ethan, who watched me cautiously, then let my focus shift to the vampires, who stood at attention in the room. They’d stopped tapping the keys of their PDAs and were outright staring. Without looking at him, I asked, “Can we speak privately?”
He paused, apparently surprised, and then said in a voice smooth enough to send a second chill down my spine, “Of course.”
His hand at my elbow, Ethan escorted me through the crowd of gaping vampires, back into the hallway, and then into the room next door. It was an office, masculine and well-appointed. His office. To the right was a sizable oak desk; to the left was a seating area of brown leather furniture. At the end of the room was a long, oval-shaped conference table, which stood just before a bank of windows covered by navy blue velvet curtains. Both side walls were lined with built-in shelves covered in books, trophies, photographs, and memorabilia.
Mallory followed us in, and Ethan closed the door. He waved his hand in invitation at two chairs that sat in front of his desk, but Mallory moved to the shelves at the far end of the room and, hands crossed behind her back, began to peruse the mementos. She gave us privacy without leaving me alone with him. Appreciating the gesture, I remained standing.
Ethan crossed his arms and gazed at me expectantly. “Well? To what do I owe the pleasure, Merit?”
I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to remember why I thought visiting the Hyde Park office of a Master vampire was a good idea, when my mouth, which apparently wasn’t privy to the internal debate, suddenly blurted out, “I didn’t give you permission to change me.”
Ethan stared at me for a moment before turning his head. He walked away, moving with self-assurance to the leather chair behind his desk. For all the tailored clothes and impeccable looks, his power was obvious. He fairly hummed with it, and while his movements were crisp and elegant, they hinted at something darker, something menacing beneath the surface—a shark arcing below deceptively smooth water.
He shuffled papers on his desk, then crossed his legs and looked up at me with those obscenely emerald eyes. “Frankly, that’s not what I expected to hear. I was hoping for something along the lines of ‘Thank you, my Liege, for saving my life. I do so enjoy being alive.’ ”
“If saving me had really been your goal, you could have taken me to a hospital. A doctor could have saved me. You unilaterally decided to make me something else.”
He furrowed his brow. “Do you think the vampire who bit you first intended to let you live?”
“I didn’t have a chance to ask him.”
“Don’t be naive.”
I’d seen the press conference about Jennifer Porter’s death, knew about the similarities between our attacks. So, unable to argue that point, I made another. “My life will never be the same.”
“Yes, Merit,” he said, frustration in his voice, “your human life will never be the same. It was, regrettably, taken from you. But we’ve given you another.”
“It should have been my decision.”
“I was a little short on time, Merit. And given that you are fully aware of the choice I had to make, this petulant attitude is beneath you.”
I didn’t disagree, but who was he to tell me that? My throat constricted with emotion. “Excuse me for not having adjusted to the fact that my life has been turned upside down. Excuse me for not reacting to that with grace.”
“Or gratefulness,” he muttered, and I wondered if he knew he’d been loud enough for me to hear him. “I gave you a life. And I made you like me. Like the rest of your brothers and sisters. Are we such monsters?”
I wish I could have said yes. I wanted to say yes, to feign horror.
But a tear ran down my cheek, propelled by some combination of rage and guilt that I wasn’t as repelled by Ethan Sullivan as I’d planned to be. I wiped away the tear with the back of my hand.
Ethan looked at me for a long time, and I could read the disappointment in his eyes. It bothered me, that disappointment, more than I cared to admit.
He steepled his fingers together on the desk, leaned forward. “Then perhaps I made a mistake. Cadogan House was allowed twelve new vampires this year, Merit. That makes you one-twelfth of my allotment. Do you think you were worth it? Do you think you can contribute to Cadogan in sufficient measure to repay that investment? Was my bringing you into the House a better decision than saving someone else to whom I might have given a new life?”
I stared at him, the value of the gift he’d given me, however much I hadn’t wanted to become one of them, sinking in. I slid into the chair before me.
Ethan nodded. “I thought that might do it. Now, your objections to having been changed have been duly noted. So for the moment, what say we move on? I don’t want that between us, even if you have decided I’m your mortal enemy.” He lifted brows in challenge. I didn’t bother to deny it.
I paused, then asked, “Duly noted?”
Ethan smiled knowingly. “Noted and recited in front of a witness.” His gaze flicked to the corner of the room, and he gazed at Mallory with curiosity. “I haven’t met your companion.”
“Mallory Carmichael, my roommate.”
Mallory glanced up from the thick book she was perusing. “Yo.”
“And your backup, I presume,” he said, rising and walking to a bar tucked into the bank of bookshelves on the left side of the room. He poured amber-colored liquor into a chubby glass and watched me over the rim as he sipped its contents. “I’ve met your father.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He cradled the glass in his hands. “You aren’t close to your family?”
“My father and I don’t get along. We have different priorities. He’s solely focused on building his financial kingdom.”