Inside, they took him to a large parlor. A. man in a deep red robe stood at the fireplace. I couldn't see his face, but his white hair hung in a long braid down his back. I recognized Cyrus, lounging in a chair beside the fire. Annoyance crossed his face at the sight of Nathan. I'd expected a more volatile reaction, considering his wife had been killed as a sacrifice to the Soul Eater's hunger in Nathan's place. Then Nathan's gaze fell to the sling that cradled Cyrus's arm, and the bruises that marred the shadowed side of his face. Apparently, Nathan had already exacted some revenge.

"Kneel before the master," the guard holding him commanded, shoving him toward the man in red. Nathan stood his ground.

"Kneel!" Cyrus kicked him, an agonizing blow to the kidneys, dead and useless though they might be. Nathan crumpled to the floor.

"Enough!" The man in red turned, his eyes furious as he regarded his son. Jacob Seymour, his body refreshed from feasting on his daughter-in-law, turned his gaze to his new fledgling. His sharp, regal features softened. "Nolen. Nolen, Nolen. Why are we still running?"

Nathan hung his head. Shame filled him, absurd though it seemed. He hated this monster who'd taken Marianne and taken his mortal life. He hated that he could still taste Jacob's blood on his mouth, that he craved more. And he hated the part of himself that kept him from escaping.

It shouldn't be impossible to leave this house, but it was. There was pain, physical pain when he was separated from his sire. The word burned like a brand through his mind, which was also under this man's control.

The Soul Eater stooped, elegantly somehow, his moves fluid and spiderlike. "You haven't fed in so long. You look positively worn-out."

His hands on Nathan's shoulder's took away some of the pain and longing. It sickened Nathan and comforted him at the same time.

I could see now what he meant by "seductive." The lines were blurring in Nathan's mind, crucial lines between torment and relief, what he wanted and what he was forced to do.

"Bring him something" the Soul Eater commanded one of his guards, straightening. "Something… pretty."

"And that screams," Cyrus added cruelly.

Nathan struggled to stand, but he'd expended the last of his energy trying to flee.

Jacob straightened, bringing Nathan gently to his feet as he did so. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you deny yourself the satisfaction of feeding?"

"I don't know," Nathan half sobbed. He shook from cold and exhaustion.

The Soul Eater wrapped Nathan in his arms, cradling him against his cold chest. "It hurts me that you would rather die than stay with me. You're like a son. My son."

Cyrus scoffed. "Lucky him."

Contempt radiated off Jacob Seymour like a wave. It even reached Nathan through the blood tie, though it wasn't directed at him. "Better than a son, in some ways."