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I need to fix this.
My coven sisters and I put Treyton in this position to begin with. We didn't give him much choice in the matter.Ididn't give him much choice in the matter. He was so intent on saving me that he sacrificed himself and assumed a position he never wanted anything to do with.
It was alsomethat first build a relationship with Treyton as an insider. So technically, this isallsort of my fault.
And now that he's lied about his feelings for me and made me doubt him, I realize that I don't want him to remain the clan leader or be influenced by the other vampires,especiallythe pretty ones. I have to find another vampire who fits the bloodline requirement so I can get Treyton off the hook. If there are no other candidates near Boston, I'll go search somewhere else. Once Treyton is no longer leader, we can figure out what's between us.
I get my laptop and prop it open on my lap. With a little research, I find out that Salem, a city near Boston, one that is notorious for burning witches, is rumored to be home to a few vampires.
I swig down the rest of my coffee, tie my hair up in a messy ponytail, and head out the door to catch a train to Salem.
14
TREYTON
It kills me to walk away from Blair's apartment. I need to explain to her, in a way that she can understand, that the way I acted at the end of the party wasn't really me. But I don't want to push her too far, and risk losing her completely.
Her refusal to speak to me exacerbates my emotions, which have been heightened since I fed from her. It feels like her powers and our emotions are threaded together within my blood, churning into a highly unstable mixture. And things that shouldn't affect me at all, like the planetary alignment, is influencing me in ways I don't understand. I'm like a fuse ready to blow or a match waiting to be lit. I could spin out of control at any moment. And when I get back to the den,I do.
No sooner do I step inside the den than someone asks me where I've been.
"It's none of your fucking business where I've been," I snap. "Is this the way you treated your last clan leader? Because if it is, I'm amazed you weren't all beheaded. Keep trying me and I'll make sure you are."
"It was only a question," the pretty vampire from the party says. "And yes, we did ask our previous clan leaders the same thing. Because their safety is important. That's why we send you out with guards, so nothing bad happens to you."
I give a grunting, sarcastic scoff.
"And what about what happens to meinsidethis damn clan?"
Everyone opens their mouths in shock. Never has a vampire spoken negatively about being clan leader. It's the most exalted position in vampire hierarchy, aside from being an ancient elder. At the rate I'm pissing off people, I doubt I'll make it that long. One of them will manage to slit my throat in my sleep before long. No one would dream of going against me in my waking hours, but that won't thwart an undetectable, middle-of-the-night assassination attempt.
After lashing out in anger and frustration, I go to the empty bedroom upstairs. I don't feel like going to my apartment alone, and I can't go and disturb Blair again.
But as soon as I see the bed that we made love on, the events of that night all come flooding back, starting with how lovely she looked walking into the party, and ending with her cheek resting against my chest. Immediately, my emotions overwhelm me. Caspian was right; I canfeelmyself turning into the predator he feared I would be, and I don't know how to stop it.
I lose control completely begin throwing things around. I tear the sheets in two, break the glass in the window with the ball of my hand, and crush everything in sight. I don't care if I'm loud enough that the whole den hears. The door is closed, and rules are rules. None of the vampires will open the door and disturb me.
Exceptfor one.
I smash my fist against one of the framed pieces of art on the wall, and accidentally cut myself on a wide shard of broken glass that has wedged its way between my knuckles. I reach to pull it out but am interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
"What do you want?" I call out.
"I want to try and help you." It's the voice of the pretty vampire, Vanessa, who I flirted with at the party. "I heard all the commotion. Are you injured?"
"No. Go away."
But instead of going away, she does the unthinkable. She breaks a well-known den rule andopensthe door. I look over at her in shock as she stands in the doorway surveying the room and looking dumbstruck at all the damage I've caused.
"Your hand," she says with a gasp. I look down at the giant piece of glass protruding from between my knuckles.
"I'mfine," I growl at her. "What do you think you're doing just opening a door in this place and coming in? Opening closed doors is forbidden." That's a rule almost as ancient as vampires themselves. She ought to know better.
"I could already tell that you were inlove," she says to my great shock. Her voice is calm, almost empathetic. But the sound of that word—love—cuts me sharper than glass.
"What? You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I? It's why you're acting like such a fool."
