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“Mom?”
She heaved a breath. “Just promise me you’ll give her a choice. A thrall contract is one thing. Mating with a vampire—or a dhampir—is something else. And will you be happy with a human mate?”
I glowered, unseeingly, at the wall. “Who said I still want her as my mate? She’s my thrall. The blood bond just means my contract with her is exclusive. She’s a source of fresh blood, and that’s all. End of story.”
Okay, maybe the fresh blood came with hot, mind-blowing sex, but I wasnotgoing there with my own mother.
“Oh,cher,” Mom replied in amen-are-cluelesstone, and changed the subject.
We talked another few minutes, then I said goodbye and opened my laptop again. The first thing I did was order a half-dozen rhinestone sunglasses sent to Mom in Maryland. Next I ordered clothes and shoes for Mila, having gotten her sizes from Lougenia before she went to bed. The last thing I bought was a gold chain blood-bond bracelet from the Syndicate’s own jeweler.
By then, dawn had reached its glowing fingers through the blinds. I closed them and rubbed my tired eyes.
Mom was right. Father was going to be pissed off—no, furious. All the effort I’d put in to prove I was a worthy heir might go right down the drain.
My jaw set. I’d figure it out. Somehow.
Because I wasn’t giving Mila up.
I turned to leave, then sat back down at my desk. I couldn’t sleep without assuring myself Mila was still there, even though there was no way she could’ve gotten past the vampires prowling the grounds, not to mention my Czechoslovakian wolfdogs, an intelligent, loyal, and menacing mix of German Shepherd and Carpathian grey wolf.
I brought up the house security system on my laptop. A couple of taps and I could see Mila, curled up in the center of the big bed, her dark hair spread out on the white pillow, the sheet pulled up to her chin. The bed dwarfed her, making her look more like a waif than ever.
She muttered something in her sleep, shook her head. Her breath quickened, and the mutter changed to a whimper.
“No, no, nonono…”
My chest tightened. I wanted to go to her, take her in my arms and comfort her. But I remained where I was, afraid it might be me who haunted her dreams.
“Promise me you’ll give her a choice.”
I scraped a hand down my face. The hell with that. Three years ago, I’d given Mila a choice, and look where it got me.
This time, it was different. She’d come to me, accepted the blood bond. Sworn she knew what it meant.
That didn’t make her my mate. The mate bond was a unique, soul-to-soul link, while the blood bond was basically a thrall contract, even though it was an exclusive and unbreakable one.
No, the blood bond didn’t make Mila my mate. But it did make her mine.
I blew out my breath. Because it wasn’t that easy, and I knew it. The woman was so thick with secrets, I could practically see them, a sticky web entangling her.
She sighed and stopped moving. I waited until I was sure she was okay, then closed my laptop.
I’d asked her why she’d left, and she’d refused to answer. But that had been my heart—and my hurt pride—talking, not my head.
Because the more important question was, why had she come back?
11
Mila
Iwoke to sunlight pouring through the bedroom doorway from the living room. I automatically reached for my phone to check the time, then remembered I didn’t have one.
I looked around for a clock. But the bedroom, while comfortable, was furnished with just the basics: a nightstand, a lamp, a tall dresser, a single chair. It was more like an upscale hotel room than a residence. Even the painting over the bed was pretty but impersonal: a beach scene with a lone white Adirondack chair shaded by a striped umbrella.
I made a pit stop to wash up, then pulled on a fluffy blue bathrobe to explore.
In the living room, I got my first view of the Atlantic. My breath caught. The house projected out over the cliff. Outside was nothing but blue sky and the ocean far below, an intense turquoise that shaded to indigo farther out. It crashed against the rocks, wild and free.
