It was too much to fight both the hunger and the will of his sire.

Marianne screamed when Nathan grabbed her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmured against her neck an instant before he pierced her flesh with his newborn fangs.

“I don’t want to see anymore!” I cried, unaware I’d regained control of my body. But the vision didn’t end.

The Soul Eater watched with perverse satisfaction as Nathan drained the last drops of Marianne’s blood.

“Let her out of it, Cyrus!” The Nathan I saw before me in the vision hadn’t spoken, but it was his voice I heard from the present.

“She needs to see!” Cyrus’s words overlapped an echo of his voice as he spoke to the Soul Eater. “Father, kill him! He’s fed, his blood is replenished. Feed from him!”

The Soul Eater shook his head. “He is too strong. Remarkably so. I couldn’t possibly waste him. I do believe he will be of greater use to me in the future, through the tie. We must always think of the future, my son. I’ll have to find another.”

“There’s no time. If you don’t feed, you’ll die!”

On the floor, Nathan rocked Marianne and sobbed.

Cyrus met his father’s gaze, horror dawning on his face. “No.”

“She’s been a thorn in my side since you turned her.” The Soul Eater strode to the doors.

“Father, no!” He gripped Jacob’s robe.

Furious, the Soul Eater jerked the fabric from his son’s hands. “Stop your sniveling, boy. Would you rather I take you instead? You’ll find another. One who obeys. One more worthy of sharing our blood.”

He kicked Cyrus backward, and before he could rise to his feet, the doors snapped shut, barring him from the outside.

“Elsbeth! Elsbeth!” He screamed until his throat grew hoarse. His talons gouged the wood of the doors, but they remained locked. The minutes slipped past, the wait unbearable. Finally, her horrified cries shattered the silence in the house, then just as quickly subsided.

The vision became grainy. I hovered in a void, surrounded by the sound of Nathan’s weeping and Cyrus’s enraged sobs.

“She’s dying! Help her!”

I opened my eyes to the present to see Nathan struggling against the guards that held him. A third stepped in to help, but he wasn’t needed. As soon as I stopped gasping for breath and sat up, he calmed.

Sometime during the dream, I’d rolled from the sofa. My head throbbed and my back ached, from hitting the floor or as a result of some weird aftereffect of the sanguine cocktail, I had no idea.

Cyrus gripped my bound wrists and hauled me to my feet. His touch was purposely rough. “I hope that shed some light on our difficult situation here. And I hope you understand why I did what I did.”

“To whom?” I snarled. “To Nathan? Or his wife? Or your fledgling? What exactly am I supposed to understand here?”

“That he’s a killer!” Cyrus’s rage was so sudden and violent, I trembled in fear. All the anguish of the past centuries curled into his words. The pain in his voice cut into me so deeply that I felt it myself, even without the blood tie between us.