I didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction. “You sent Dahlia to kill me?”

Rage contorted his face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? She tried to kill me. And I don’t appreciate it.”

His frown deepened, this time in confusion. “If she’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead by now. She’s very good at what she does.”

“Well, she missed.” I stood and crossed to the floor-length windows. The curtains were not yet drawn, so he wasn’t concerned about daylight any time soon. I’d never actually watched a sunrise, so I had no idea how long they took. Or, more important, at what point it would kill me. I’ve got to get back to Nathan.

“Ah, you’ve met Mr.—what is he going by these days? Grant?”

I silently cursed myself. I hadn’t meant to think of him in Cyrus’s presence.

There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

“And I presume he’s told you about our past…involvement?” Cyrus fought to control his anger as he spoke, but I still felt it through the blood tie. “No wonder you’re on this…pro-human bent.”

I held firm, despite the volatile emotions invading my mind. “He told me he was sent to execute you. He told me you have the same blood.”

“We do. I didn’t sire him, but I was there when my sire turned him. We’re hardly on brotherly terms now.” Cyrus stood and paced the room. “So Nolen is dead, is he? I’m glad to hear it, even if I didn’t do it myself.”

Nolen? “He’s not dead. But I need Dahlia to reverse whatever she did to him.”

Cyrus laughed as though I’d told a clever joke. He pulled two cigars out of a mahogany humidor and offered one to me. I refused. “I want him dead, Carrie. Why on earth would I help him?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” My reply sounded embarrassingly weak to my ears.

“But, Carrie, didn’t you just accuse me of killing for pleasure?” He lit the cigar and took a few puffs.

I tried not to gag as the sickly sweet smoke assailed my nostrils. “Change my opinion. Give me Dahlia.”

He moved toward me. I sensed what he was about to do and braced myself.

He reached out too fast for me to step aside, his cigar dropping to the expensive carpet. One arm wound around my waist and brought me up tight against his chest. He pulled my hair, jerking my head back sharply.

“I want to make something clear so we don’t have any further misunderstandings. I don’t care what your opinion of me is. At the end of the day, it’s still my blood in your veins. I own you.”

“No!” My instincts told me to get free, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I feared him.

He leaned forward, nuzzling my throat with his lips. The cigar still burned at our feet. It gave me something to focus on besides the feeling of his tongue against my skin.