I squeezed my hands into fists. “Does it matter? You say you’re going to kill me, anyway.”

Chuckling, he reached for something on the marble table beside him. “No, Carrie. I must concede. I was never planning to kill you.”

The object he’d reached for was a sleek, lacquered box. It reminded me of the boxes Nathan sold in the shop to hold tarot cards and crystals, except this one looked much more expensive and was fitted with an ornate lock.

Cyrus pulled the box into his lap, resting his hands protectively over it. “Now, tell me what you know about your sire. I’m dying to hear his version of the story.”

I had a good idea what was in the box, but I tore my gaze from it. “He didn’t tell me anything. Max told me Nathan killed his wife. And when I—” I stumbled over the words I didn’t want to say. “When I drank your blood, I saw what happened to him at one of your Vampire New Year parties. But I don’t know how it all fits together.”

Cyrus steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Yes, from what I understand, Nolen can be a very private person.”

Snapping his fingers, Cyrus motioned to Nathan. Holding the box tight to his chest, Cyrus stood and retrieved a crystal champagne flute from a tray on the mantel. Instead of filling it with the sparkling green absinthe in the decanter beside it, he moved to where the guards hauled Nathan to his feet. “Shall you do the honors, or shall I?”

Nathan was unconscious. His head drooped forward, hiding the bloody mess that was his face. It was a miracle Cyrus hadn’t killed him.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when Cyrus pulled a dagger from his sleeve and plunged it into Nathan’s side.

“No!” I tried to stand, but with my arms tied, my balance was sorely lacking. I fell to the sofa and tipped sideways.

Cyrus filled the glass halfway with Nathan’s blood, then wiped the knife clean on Nathan’s soiled T-shirt. “Let’s not overreact, Carrie. You knew he was going to die when he came through the front door. But he does need to live, for now. At least, until you can see what I need you to see.”

He drew the blade across his wrist, letting the ensuing stream of blood mix with Nathan’s in the glass. I thought they should have reacted violently toward each other, fizzing and foaming or separating like oil and water, but the dark liquid blended into one murky cocktail.

When it was full, Cyrus held the glass to my lips. “Drink it.”

Closing my eyes, I smelled the familiar scent of Cyrus and felt the call of my sire. What would happen when I drank it?

The hard edge of the knife poked my throat, an insistent, dangerous pressure.

“Drink it.”

Wetting my lips, I opened my mouth. It’s now or never. You wanted answers, you’re about to get them.