Adrian snatched my hand and drew my fingers into his mouth, and as he sucked them, heat blasted through my body.

When he released me, he held my gaze and whispered, “Perfect.”

This was his way of apologizing—but it was not the one I wanted.

The sound of breaking glass and shouting drew our attention to the crowd where a vampire stumbled back, hands clasped around a piece of shattered glass that was embedded in his arm.

“Bastard!” another vampire cried, another shard of glass in his hand. “How dare you drink from my vassal!”

He vaulted from behind one of the banquet tables and pounced, knocking him to the ground. The crowd cheered as the two men brawled, rolling around on the marble floor.

I looked at Ana.

“Are vassals not shared?” I asked.

“Some are,” she replied. “Some aren’t. It is a choice as personal as sharing a partner.”

“Is the offense punishable by death?”

“Yes.” It was Adrian who answered with a frustrated hiss, and he waited until I looked at him to add, “Though I suppose I am just speaking for myself.”

The crowd grew louder and more disorderly as more people joined the scuffle. Before it got out of hand, Adrian signaled to the guards, who moved in, separating the two vampires and dragging them from the room. A crowd followed, still encouraging the fight, and in the relative quiet that followed, someone yelled, “Music!”

A cheery tune began and enough space was made on the floor for people to dance.

“Am I considered a vassal?” I asked, looking at Adrian. It was the first thing I had said to him all evening, and in the grand scheme of everything that occurred, it was meaningless—except that I was mortal, and by definition, a vassal was a mortal a vampire fed from.

Adrian returned my stare. A quiet heat burned behind his eyes, and I noted how he sat, rigid and wound tight. If he was not attempting some semblance of control tonight, he likely would have held to his promise to fuck me on this table.

But he had no invitation, especially when I was not speaking to him, and so he remained still and answered simply.

“You are the love of my life.”

It wasn’t an answer to my question, but it was Adrian’s answer to everything.

I took another sip of my wine, hoping it would help me relax, but sitting beside Adrian made that impossible.

I was hyperaware of every breath he inhaled, every slight move he made, and while I didn’t look directly at him, I saw when his hand snaked out, how his fingers curled around his drink—slender and long, strangely delicate for the monster he was.

They were fingers that gave me pleasure, that had been inside me and coaxed me to come with an uninterrupted grace.