I opened my eyes and glanced down to where Nathan slid in and out of me. Cyrus's fingers bracketed Nathan's cock, slick with my secretions, and Nathan buried his face in my neck with a groan. I felt his features change against my skin, and his fangs pricked me tentatively. Cyrus's erection prodded my backside as his fingers danced wickedly over my flesh. The pressure in my tortured body grew almost unbearable. I begged mindlessly, held Nathan's mouth to my neck. Cyrus guided his cock to my ass and pushed inside as Nathan's fangs pierced my neck.

I cried out in surprise at the discomfort and fullness of Cyrus's entry, but his skilled assault on my intimate flesh, coupled with Nathan's mouth drawing at my neck and his cock pumping inside me, drove me over the edge. Impaled between them, I screamed in release.

My eyes snapped open. Though I was alone in the bed, my body throbbed from the ecstasy of the dream, and the wetness between my legs testified to the very real physical effect it'd had on me. I rolled over, pushing sweat-damp hair from my forehead, and grabbed the note Nathan had left on his pillow: "Working. Nathan."

I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle, adding enough blood for Nathan and me. I would take it to him downstairs and lend him a hand in the shop, whether he needed it or not. Anything to strengthen the fragile peace between us and get me away from my perverted fledgling.

As .the blood heated, I forced myself to ignore the contents of the dream. Of course, Cyrus had sent it, torturing me by day the way he assaulted me during the night. What had prompted this ruthless return of the man who'd tortured and abused me four months ago? He'd claimed his time with Mouse had saved him, yet he'd reverted to his old ways as if I'd flipped a switch when I'd changed him. Was it the simple state of being undead that made vampires go bad? Or was it just Cyrus?

Or was it me? When he'd been my sire, it had been his blood that tempted me to self-destruction. Was it my blood that brought out the worst in him now?

Wisps of steam had just begun to rise from the kettle's spout when Cyrus ambled in from the living room, loose limbed and relaxed, clad in nothing but linen pajama bottoms. "That lovely mental interlude and breakfast? I'm flattered."

"It's not for you," I snapped, removing the kettle from the heat.

"So it's starvation then? Until I behave?" He stood behind me, too close, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. "I'd rather hoped it would be a more physical form of punishment."

I elbowed him in the gut. He'd tensed for the blow, but still doubled over.