My heart races. An ache for the prince I can only describe as longing pulls at my chest. I stamp on it with an imaginary boot. It’s the blood. Has to be. I may feel an unfathomable attraction to the vampire, but I have no desire to become his mindless slave or join his ranks.

“I’d like some time alone with Michael,” Flanagan says. “If you could wait outside, Councilor.”

Quinton gracefully nods his assent. “I will wait downstairs.” He turns to me with a warm smile. “We will meet again soon, Michael.”

I return the smile, but it’s awkward. I know he wants me to see him as a friend, but something about him unsettles me. He collects his hat and cane from the desk and leaves the room, swinging his silver stick like an Oxford toff.

Flanagan stands unmoving, silent until the doors close again.

I wait for him to speak, still gripping the bookshelf. I feel like I’ve been hit by an avalanche. I have a gazillion questions, starting with What the ever-loving fuck? But this isn’t the right moment. Not if Flanagan’s people are about to be attacked and he should be elsewhere. I stay quiet, determined to be patient with whatever he has to say.

“I’m going to return you to lockdown for now.”

Okay, apart from that. “Why? Quinton’s just told you I’m not a Blood Servant. I can’t help my blood. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You may not be a Blood Servant, but I now realize you are undergoing a transformation, and until that settles, you remain potentially dangerous. You put four of my guards in the infirmary.”

“I don’t remember that. I have rights, you know. What about my job, my life?”

His expression softens. “I’m sorry, Michael, your rights have changed. As a supernatural, you are subject to a different set of laws. We already informed your employer you won’t be returning. Your rented flat will paid off, your belongings taken care of. I’m the one responsible for you now. You may only be in the cage for one more day.”

A day? It might as well be a year. A surge of fury rises. What right do the Guardians have to tidy away my life without even asking me? I know I don’t have much. I barely have enough stuff to fill my one-room flat, and I hated that café job, but it’s not the point.

“So that’s it? Instead of a slave, I’m a prisoner. You know, I’m not seeing how this is a rescue right now, Flanagan.”

He bends to retrieve the chains from the floor, and my stomach lurches. “You need to be patient, Michael. Your circumstances will change when I know you are stable.”