“Why not?” Kisten’s voice had taken a petulant tone. “He’s not asking for much.”

Tight and controlled, Ivy’s voice was seething. “I don’t want that bastard in my head at all. Why would I let him see through my eyes? Feel my thoughts?”

The carafe hung from my fingers as I stood over the sink. I wished I wasn’t hearing this.

“But he loves you,” Kisten whispered, sounding hurt and jealous. “You’re his scion.”

“He doesn’t love me. He loves me fighting him.” It was bitter, and I could almost see her perfect, slightly Oriental features tighten in anger.

“Ivy,” Kisten cajoled. “It feels good, intoxicating. The power he shares with you—”

“It’s a lie!” she shouted, and I started. “You want the prestige? The power? You want to keep running Piscary’s interests? Pretend you’re still his scion? I don’t care! But I’m not letting him in my head even to cover for you!”

I noisily ran the water into the carafe to remind them I was listening. I didn’t want to hear more, and I wished they’d stop.

Kisten’s sigh was long and heavy. “It doesn’t work that way. If he really wants in, you won’t be able to stop him, Ivy love.”

“Shut. Up.”

The words were so full of bound anger that I stifled a shudder. The carafe overflowed, and I jumped as water hit my hand. Grimacing, I shut the tap off and tipped the excess out.

There was a creak of wood from the living room. My stomach clenched. Someone had just pinned someone else to a chair. “Go ahead,” Kisten murmured over the tinkling of the water pouring into the coffeemaker. “Sink those teeth. You know you want to. Just like old times. Piscary feels everything you do, whether you want him to or not. Why do you think you haven’t been able to abstain from blood lately? Three years of denial, and now you can’t go three days? Give it up, Ivy. He’d love to feel us enjoying ourselves again. And maybe your roommate might finally understand. She almost said yes,” he goaded. “Not to you. To me.”

I stiffened. That had been directed at me. I wasn’t in the room, but I might as well have been.

There was another creak of wood. “Touch her blood and I’ll kill you, Kist. I swear it.”

I looked around the kitchen for a way to escape but it was too late as Ivy halted in the archway, with a scuff of boots. She hesitated, looking unusually ruffled as she gauged my unease in an instant with her uncanny ability to read body language. It made keeping secrets around her chancy at best. Anger at Kist had pinched her brow, and the aggressive frustration didn’t bode well, even if it wasn’t aimed at me. Her pale skin glowed a faint pink as she tried to calm herself, bringing the faint whisper of scar tissue on her neck into stark relief. She had tried surgery to minimize Piscary’s physical sign of his claim on her, but it showed when she was upset. And she wouldn’t accept any of my complexion charms. I had yet to figure that one out.