Shocked, I watched her walk away. The sun coming in through the stained-glass windows made spots of color on her as her arms swung stiffly. My resolve strengthened. I took a step after her. This pattern of her fleeing my questions was getting old.

“Talk to me,” I demanded. “Why won’t you at least try to find a way to make this work? You could be so happy, Ivy!”

Ivy halted just before the foyer, hand on her hip as she faced the door. For three heartbeats she stood before she slowly spun. Slim and tense, she made a picture of collected frustration. “You can’t stop me,” she said simply, and I took a protesting step forward. “You’re too wrapped up in the ecstasy to keep conscious enough to stop me if things go wrong, and, Rachel, unless I mix sex with it, things will go wrong. It’s how Piscary made me.”

A glimmer of her self-disgust, her hatred of who she was, showed, and my heart ached to prove to her she was wrong. My breath came fast, and I held it. “I know what to expect now,” I said softly. “It was the surprise. I can do better.”

Hip cocked, she looked to her left as if searching for strength. Or maybe answers. “Better won’t keep you alive,” she said, and I went cold at the caustic sound. “You don’t have it in you. You said yourself you don’t want to hurt me. If I take your blood again without letting my feelings for you shackle my hunger, you’re going to have to hurt me, because the hunger will take control, and I’m not capable of stopping then. Think you can do that?”

My mouth went dry, and my first words came out in a croak. “I…” I stammered, “I don’t have to hurt you to stop you.”

“Is that so?” she said, and as I stood frozen with my eyes wide, she dropped her purse. “Let’s find out.”

I jerked back as she leapt. Gasping, I dove toward her, pushing off the wall. My intent was to get past her. If she got a hold on me, I was dead meat. This wasn’t passion. This was anger. Anger at herself, perhaps, but anger.

The thump of her hitting the wall where I had been brought my heart into my throat. I spun where I landed. She was coming back, and I grabbed her arm, wrenching it to lever her into falling. She twisted from me, rolled by the sound of it, and I spun.

But I was too slow, and I bit back a yelp when a white arm slipped around my neck. Her fingers pinched my hand, bending my wrist backward until it hurt. I went slack in her grip, caught and unable to best her vampire reactions. It was over that quickly. She had me.