Victorija turned away and clutched at her hair. “No, no, why did you do this to me, Angele?” She took a deep breath, and when she turned back around, the cool Victorija was back. “There is no Torija. She died the day I became a born vampire.”

“I don’t believe that, Torija. You’ve just forgotten her.”

“You are deluded, Daisy MacDougall.” Victorija stalked around the back of the chair and pulled down the side of her top, exposing more of her neck. Daisy gasped when she felt Victorija’s nose and lips on her neck. “Do you know how much I’ve been fantasizing about this neck?”

The feel of Victorija’s lips against her neck made her tremble, and her sex started to throb. It was intoxicating, and all she wanted to do was offer herself to Victorija. It was what the blood bond demanded, but she had to stay strong.

It was even harder to stay strong when she felt the tips of Victorija’s fangs. “I want you so much.”

Daisy’s body wanted Victorija, too, but her brain wasn’t going to let that happen. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to. I know your blood, and I need it desperately,” Victorija said huskily.

Daisy took a breath, trying to control her body’s reaction to Victorija. “I do not consent.”

Victorija hissed and put her arm around Daisy’s throat, choking her slightly. “Why do you think your consent means anything to me?”

“Because I’m a Brassard, and you swore an oath to Angele never to take blood without consent from a Brassard.”

Victorija was silent for a moment and loosened her grip on Daisy’s throat. “I don’t know who told you about that, but it was just something to pacify Angele. She’s long dead, and it meant nothing.”

It was then that Daisy noticed the green in Victorija’s veins, climbing up her wrist and forearm.

“I saw how she asked you to vow, I saw how she killed herself, and I saw how you cried over her body while your father laughed.”

Victorija grabbed the back of Daisy’s hair painfully and pulled her head back. Her eyes were blood red and wild. Daisy was frightened, her heart was beating hard, but she remembered the young Torija in pain, crying over both her mother and Angele. She now believed she could save—was destined to save—Victorija, so she stayed as strong as she could.

“How could you see my past?” Victorija asked.

“The notebook she left. No one in my family has been able to open it. It opened for me, easily. Angele showed me her days with you. I got to know the real you.”

“You know nothing about me.” Victorija bared her teeth.

“You won’t feed from me, Torija. I do not consent.”

Victorija let go suddenly and roared as she fought with her want and desire for Daisy’s blood. She ran for the wall of the dungeon and punched, leaving a crumbling hole. She bent over, gasping for breath, then took out a hip flask, before downing it.