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“That’s what he said too.” She lifted an eyebrow, observing me. “So just stay away from him.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
She snapped back to Sebastian, shaking her head. “Now that’s taken care of, my mom wants to know why you’ve been avoiding her calls.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect. He’d said Gwendolyn was the daughter of the head of Nightshade, the woman who wanted me dead and probably knew what I looked like through pictures and research.
“I’ve been busy,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll get back to her when I’m ready.”
Gwen rolled her expressive, blue eyes. “Are you going to hold a grudge forever, Seb?”
“Don’t push me, Gwen.”
She turned, looking me up and down. “I’ll tell her you’ve found a new plaything, and that’s why you’ve been distracted. Don’t keep her waiting too long. You know how she hates it.”
“Goodbye, Gwen,” he said, closing the door on her.
“Do you know her well?” I asked. “Should I be worried about her mom?”
“No. Gwen, despite everything, won’t put me in danger.”
“Why not?”
“Gwen was there when I was turned. She was the first person to show me how to survive as a vampire when her mom forced me to change. Mostly because her mom also forced her to change once she turned twenty, so she knows how it feels.” His expression darkened. “Gwen may be jealous, paranoid, and spoiled, but she’s not her mother. Velda’s worse. She’s intelligent and takes what she wants.”
His eyes glazed over as he looked up, lost in a memory of a life torn away from him.
“I’m sorry she did that to you.”
He swallowed thickly before he returned to his usual self—on the surface anyway. “She will pay for it one day. Besides”—he forced a small smile—“I met Erianna and Zach shortly after. They saved me in many ways.”
“What about your family and friends? Have you been back to see them?” I asked, assuming he’d had to come here after being turned in another kingdom.
“I don’t have any family to go back to,” he admitted, the line on his forehead creasing deeply. “My life wasn’t the only thing Velda took.”
“How did you cope?”
“I could ask you the same question. You’ve lost everyone close to you too.”
The reminder hit me like a brick wall, catching the breath in my throat. “I’m not coping.”
He paused, searching my expression. I looked over his sharp features, landing on the dimple which only appeared when he smiled or frowned. “How did you manage?”
“I surrendered,” he said, stilling me.
“Isn’t that just a fancier word for giving up?”
“You think surrender is weakness?” he asked, tilting my head up with two fingers.
“Yes,” I choked out. “What else could it be?”
“Power.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “How?”
He took a step back, shoving his hands in his deep pockets, and walked toward the dining room. I followed. “When you release control, no one can force your hand. I realized a long time ago I couldn’t force the will of the world, and in that, I found faith. I realized I could do anything, be anything, and decided anything that happened to me was meant to be. I believe, with everything I am, that I’m going to make it out of this alive with some shred of happiness, and that belief made me more powerful than I ever could have imagined.”
“So I should surrender?”
