Moron. Of course he’d heard my thoughts through the blood tie. As charged up as I was, he probably sensed my adrenaline from across town.

I heard the clank of metal on metal and the scrape of a door as it opened. Light spilled through the wide double doors and we entered what appeared to be a study.

A fire burned in the massive stone fireplace and a Persian carpet dominated the floor. Cyrus moved around the room and lit a pair of Tiffany lamps with a pull of their chains.

“Very art deco.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Please, sit down.”

I sank into the leather couch in front of the fire. “I didn’t say I liked it.”

He laughed and sat next to me. Too close. He put one arm companionably around my shoulder and stroked my neck with his long fingernails, tracing my scar. My pulse quickened, but not from fear.

Get it together, Carrie. You managed to resist him before. Stay focused.

“Don’t you love this carpet?” he asked, pointing to the ornate rug beneath us. “When they weave these, they always put one intentional mistake in. Do you know why?”

I didn’t answer.

“Because only Allah can make perfection.” He sighed softly. “I’ve studied this one over and over, and I’ve never been able to find the imperfection.”

“What’s your point?”

“The rug reminds me of you. You would be perfect, were it not for one minor flaw.” He tickled my ear with a long talon and I shivered.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He leaned in, his icy breath hissing in my ear. “Your humanity.”

Drawing back, he tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

“I have.” I wasn’t lying.

“And?”

“And I’m still undecided. But I’m not going to give up my humanity, even if I choose you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong. Killing for pleasure is wrong.” I fixed him with a cold stare. “I heard what you did to that little girl.”

“Which one?” He winked at me. “I wonder, have you even bothered to seek out others of our kind to ask them what they think of your idealistic Movement? There’s a war coming. Do you honestly think you’re on the winning side?”

“I’m not going to be on the side that gets off on murder. That’s all that matters to me.”

His face became solemn. “Carrie, you’re making yourself a martyr when I could make you a queen.”

His distress seemed real. The look in his eyes was enough to make me promise I would reconsider. I wiped a bloody tear from his cheek and a smile touched his lips.

“Stay with me, Carrie,” he whispered against my palm.

I quickly moved my hand away from his face. My fingers burned from our contact, and I shuddered with rage. “I’m here for Dahlia.”

“What on earth would you want with Dahlia? Aside from that deplorable fire incident, for which she’s been thoroughly punished, anything she’s done, she’s done under my orders. If you want to punish someone, then by all means, punish me.” A wicked grin lit his face.