The sound of him, a single heart beating in his human chest, almost drowned out the sound of Nathan’s agony as my two sires fought for dominance in my mind.

I gripped the edge of the marble countertop so hard I expected to leave gouges in the stone. When I exhaled, a single word exploded from my mouth.

“Cyrus.”

Then, I was falling, and I didn’t feel it when I hit the ground.

Chapter 11
Connections

This time, when he woke, he was careful not to disturb Mouse. He didn’t want to have to explain to her about Carrie, and why he could still feel her.

Because he didn’t have the answer himself.

Trembling, he went to stand beneath the small, high window. The moon was full, filling the basement with an eerie slash of light. Upstairs, the heavy footsteps he’d learned not to hear shook the floor.

In the past few days, he’d almost forgotten he’d been like them. Carrie’s voice in his dream had reminded him. He’d heard her in his water-colored memories in the shadow world. They’d inspired a feeling as close to anger as he’d been capable of then. It had really been more of a passing annoyance. When he’d been pulled back, he’d been enraged at the thought of her. “The one who got away,” some would say, though it wasn’t with fond nostalgia in his case.

But now, he couldn’t conjure even a speck of hatred for her. It was too tiring to be consumed so fully by an emotion, and he was finished wasting time.

Maybe that’s why he’d heard her calling his name. Perhaps his subconscious had been giving him some sort of signal. After all, the school of dream interpretation couldn’t be complete bullshit.

Things were never that simple. In all his life, never once had something turned out to his advantage, and he was sure this would be no different. The dream was a warning. He would meet her again.

The thought of Carrie, who could not love him when he’d been at the height of his power and influence, seeing him in his human shell didn’t rankle the way it should have. Humanity had a few advantages. One being companionship. As a vampire, he wouldn’t have tolerated the company of someone like Mouse. He’d wanted ones who would do anything to be with him. Though timid, Mouse had a quiet dignity. She wasn’t as outspoken and abrasive as Carrie had been—qualities Cyrus had truly admired at the time. Mouse had settled into their bizarre circumstances gradually, and every day a little more of what he assumed was her original personality surfaced.

He was going to have to stop calling her Mouse. But he certainly wasn’t going to start calling her Stacey.