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
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
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