Ziggy groaned at our knees. Moving behind me, Cyrus eased me onto the bed so I lay beside the boy. With one arm draped over my waist, my sire leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Drink, Carrie.”

And God, how I wanted to. But it was Ziggy. “If I do, will it kill him?”

Obviously misinterpreting the nature of my question, Cyrus chuckled. “Go ahead, take his life if you’d like. Or, let him live and we’ll play with him later. Whatever you prefer.”

When I hesitated, he reached over me to lay a lethally sharp fingernail against Ziggy’s exposed throat. “Do you want me to cut him for you?”

I sensed his impatience through the blood tie and by the way his legs rubbed restlessly against mine. If he knew who Ziggy was, if he knew why I couldn’t feed from him…

No. I could do this. All I needed to do was show Cyrus I was willing to perform the act. Even just a few drops would prove that. Then he wouldn’t hurt me or Ziggy.

Yes, I could do this. To protect Ziggy’s life, I could hurt him.

I ran my tongue over my fangs. I hadn’t even felt the change take place. It was beginning to feel natural. I leaned close to Ziggy’s throat.

“Yes,” Cyrus hissed into my ear. He bunched a fistful of my gown in his hand, pulling it higher and higher until I felt his palm against my bare thigh.

Taking a deep breath for control, I bit down. I’d expected Ziggy’s body to stiffen beneath my mouth, but he didn’t react at all.

When the blood hit my tongue, I cried out with the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. The sensation was so overwhelming it took me a moment to realize I hadn’t felt it at all. It was Ziggy’s memory, seeping into me through his blood. His eyes opened and I saw through them as he collapsed, sated, against the bare mattress of his bed.

There was the click of a door opening, and Ziggy flipped onto his back, panic obliterating the peace that lingered from his climax. Nathan stood frozen in the doorway, covered in grime and soot from the fire. His eyes, clouded with fatigue, flamed to life with shock and sudden anger.

He was masturbating, so what? I thought, a little surprised at Nathan’s reaction. Then I saw the third person in the room, a young man Ziggy’s age, at the corner of the bed. He clutched the rumpled sheet to his naked body and rapidly tried to explain his presence before grabbing his clothes and pushing past Nathan.

I felt Ziggy’s shame, but also his strange relief at being found out and his embarrassment at the knowledge I saw everything he remembered.

I didn’t know he was coming upstairs, his thoughts whispered in my head. I didn’t know he’d be so mad. I should have told him. I want to go home.

I jerked my head back, clamping my palm over the wound I’d inflicted to stop the bleeding. When no blood oozed between my fingers, I lifted my hand. The bite was neatly closed, but a telling scar remained.