was born, determined to give his children a chance. He didn’t want us being harassed and followed about by the league just because we’re vampires. After all, vampires aren’t all good or all bad, any more than humans are. But try telling that to the Helios-Ra. They only recently admitted that being a vampire wasn’t a good enough reason to be killed on sight. Still, old traditions die hard with them, almost as hard as with us.
But our family, at least, has a good reputation. We mostly drink animal blood, only resorting to human blood if it’s consensual or if we’re ill and can’t heal without it. If that fails, a quick break- in at the blood bank works well enough. We’ve never gone feral; the disease has been in our bloodline too many centuries for that, and every generation is born stronger than the last. It’s not easy dying, even if you know you’re going to wake up afterward. And it’s even harder controlling the blood thirst. Still, hardly any of us go mad anymore during the turning. I had to remind myself of that little fact every time I looked at the calendar to see my birthday edging closer and closer. Lucy nudged me.
“You’re looking morose,” she said under her breath. “You’re thinking about it again.”
I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. I couldn’t afford to get sidetracked with self-pity—or by the fact that this particular Helios-Ra agent was really good-looking, with his dark eyes and strong cheekbones.
“Things change,” he said. “You should know. You broke the treaty.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, soft as a mouse near a sleeping cat.
Uh-oh. Mom was big on that whole honor thing.
“Big mistake,” Lucy said pleasantly. She was a lot more bloodthirsty than I was, ironically enough. She would have made a better vampire than me. I shot her a look.
“What?” she asked innocently. “He was after you, he deserves it.”
Nicholas barely turned his head. “Do you two mind?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered.
Mom stepped up close enough that Kieran was sweating a little and breathing as shallowly as he could. Our pheromones when we were distracting mortals to drink was nothing compared with the pheromones when we were angry. His entire body was probably flooding with adrenaline, trying to decide between fight or flight. I couldn’t sense it yet, but soon enough I’d be able to taste it on my tongue like champagne bubbles. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.
“Are you accusing us of breaking an oath?” Mom’s voice was like broken glass—glittery and dangerous. Beside her, Sebastian bared his teeth. His fangs were retracted, but still, there was something too sharp about his teeth. He barely spoke, even to us, and his silence was terrifying to those who didn’t know him.
“It’s common knowledge.”
“Is it?”
“Drakes,” he spat. “I know better than to trust any of you.”
Byron, one of the dogs, growled. Quinn smiled.
“Let me talk to him,” he suggested. There was always something slightly violent about his smiles. Dad held up his hand. Quinn subsided, but barely.
“We haven’t broken the treaty,” Dad said quietly.
“Helios-Ra says you have.”
“Then Helios-Ra is misinformed. And I won’t have your organization endangering my daughter.”
He glanced at me, glanced away.
“If you keep me here, you really will be breaking the treaty.” He was breathing through his mouth, as if that would help.
“Actually, since you broke the treaty by coming here in the first place”—Dad’s voice was silky—“we really needn’t concern ourselves with those rules.” Mom actually smirked.
“I . . .”
“How old are you?” Dad asked.
“Eighteen.”
Dad shook his head, dismayed. “They’re training them younger and younger.”
“They need to be able to infiltrate the high schools and colleges to spy on us,” Connor pointed out.
“I’m only doing my job. Keeping people safe from monsters like you.”
“People like you are the reason my aunt Ruby won’t leave her house anymore,” I snapped. She’d lost her husband and three sons to hunters and had never really recovered from the loss.
His face went hard. “Monsters like you are the reason my father’s dead.”
“Oh and we’ve never lost family members to hunters or Helios?” I shot back even though I felt bad that he’d lost his father.
“And they’re not monsters, you bigot,” Lucy broke in, incensed. She leaped to her feet. “It’s a disease, you ignorant prig. Are people with diabetes or arthritis monsters too?” If secrecy wasn’t so important, she would have used her theory in her personal crusade to make the world accept us.
“It’s not the