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I packed at three in the morning.
Didn't turn on the lights. Just threw clothes into my duffel, grabbed my laptop, my charger, the protein bars I'd stashed under the bed. The wrist thing hadn't gone away. Don't let him smell your blood. What the hell kind of warning was that.
I wasn't waiting around to find out.
Lucien's bedroom door was closed. No light underneath. I'd watched him go in there after midnight, hadn't heard him come out. Good. I could be down to the lobby, out the revolving doors, halfway to the subway before he even woke up.
If he woke up.
I didn't let myself think about the red on his mouth.
The penthouse hallway stretched longer than it had yesterday. Marble floor, recessed lights, and those floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the city lights sixty floors down. My sneakers didn't make a sound. I kept my duffel tight against my ribs and walked fast.
The elevator was at the far end. Twenty more steps.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Then the lights went out.
Not flickering. Not brownout. Just gone.
The windows still glowed with the city outside, but inside it was black. I froze. My breath sounded too loud. I fumbled for my phone, thumb shaking as I turned on the flashlight.
The beam cut through the dark and hit the elevator doors.
Someone was standing in front of them.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Not Lucien.
I took a step back.
"You smell good," the guy said.
His voice was wrong. Wet. Like he had something in his mouth.
I swung the flashlight up to his face.
His eyes reflected the light back at me. Bright. Yellow-green. Animal eyes.
"Jesus—"
I turned and ran.
Footsteps behind me. Fast. Too fast.
I didn't scream. I just ran, duffel slamming against my side, phone flashlight bouncing wild across the walls. There was a stairwell door somewhere, I'd seen it yesterday, where the hell was it—
Hand grabbed my shoulder.
Yanked me back.
I hit the wall hard, air punching out of my lungs. The guy was right there, leaning in, and up close he looked normal except for the eyes and the teeth. His teeth were too sharp. His breath smelled like rust.
"Don't run," he said. "Makes it more fun."
I drove my knee up.
He caught it. Didn't even flinch.
"Cute."
Then something hit him from the side.
He went down hard, skidding across the marble, and suddenly Lucien was between us. Barefoot. Black T-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was a mess. He looked calm.
Too calm.
"Get back to your room, Evelyn."
I didn't move. Couldn't.
The guy got up. He was smiling. Blood on his lip where he'd bit himself in the fall.
"Ash," he said. "Didn't know you were keeping pets now."
"Didn't know you were still stupid enough to break into my building."
"She's not marked. Not really. I can smell it. You haven't claimed her."
Lucien tilted his head.
"You want to test that?"
The guy's smile slipped.
I should've run. Should've used the distraction, made it to the stairwell. But I was stuck there with my back against the wall, watching them.
They didn't move like people.
Too fast. Too still.
"She's contracted," Lucien said. His voice dropped lower. "That means she's mine. You touch her, you answer to the council. You really want that?"
"Council's old blood. Weak blood. You're all dying out anyway."
"Then prove it."
The guy lunged.
Lucien moved.
I didn't see it. One second the guy was there, the next Lucien had him by the throat, slammed against the window. The glass cracked. Sixty floors up and the window was cracking.
The guy clawed at Lucien's arm. Made a choking sound.
"Tell your pack," Lucien said quietly, "if they come near her again, I'll stop being polite."
He let go.
The guy dropped, gasping, then scrambled back and ran for the stairwell. The door banged open. Footsteps down the stairs, then gone.
Silence.
Lucien turned around.
His eyes were wrong.
Not yellow-green like the other guy. Darker. Red edges around the pupils. He blinked and they went back to normal. Almost normal.
He looked at me.
Then at the duffel bag on the floor.
"Going somewhere?"
I couldn't get words out.
He stepped closer.
"Evelyn."
"Stay back."
"You're bleeding."
I looked down. My elbow. I'd scraped it on the wall when the guy grabbed me. Just a little blood, not even dripping, but Lucien was staring at it.
His jaw tightened.
"Go to your room," he said.
"What are you."
"Not now."
"What the hell are you."
He closed his eyes. Took a breath.
When he opened them again, they were still wrong. Still had that red glow underneath.
"I'm trying," he said, "very hard, not to make this worse. Go to your room. Clean the blood. Lock the door."
"You're—"
"Yes."
He said it flat. No explanation. Just yes.
I grabbed my duffel and backed away.
He didn't follow.
I made it three steps before my legs almost gave out. Grabbed the wall. Kept going. My room was at the other end of the hall, door still open, light off. I went in, slammed the door, locked it.
Stood there shaking.
My elbow was still bleeding. I went into the bathroom, turned on the light, ran water over it. The sink turned pink.
I wrapped it in toilet paper. Pressed hard.
My wrist started burning.
I looked down.
The red letters were moving. Shifting. New words crawling up my forearm like they were being written in real time.
Bound.
Mine.
Contracted.
I tried to rub them off. They didn't smudge.
I tried soap. Water. Scrubbing until my skin turned red.
The words stayed.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Evelyn."
Lucien.
I turned off the water.
"Open the door."
"No."
"I need to see that you're all right."
"I'm fine. Go away."
Silence.
Then his voice, quieter.
"He smelled your blood. That's why he came up here. The building's secure, but if you're bleeding, they can tell. They'll keep coming."
I looked at my elbow. It had stopped bleeding. Just a scrape.
"Who's they."
"Wild-bloods. Turned, not born. They don't follow the old rules."
"What rules."
Another pause.
"The ones that keep you alive."
I sat down on the bathroom floor. The tiles were cold. My hands were still shaking.
"I want out," I said.
"I know."
"Let me out of the contract."
"I can't."
"Burn it. Void it. Whatever."
"It doesn't work like that."
I laughed. It came out wrong. Cracked.
"Then what the hell does it do."
Footsteps. He was right outside the door now.
"It marks you as mine. It means other vampires can't touch you without starting a blood feud. It means you're protected."
Vampires.
He said it like it was normal.
"It also means," he continued, "you can't leave the building without me. Not until the contract terms are fulfilled."
"How long."
"Six months."
I put my head in my hands.
"This is insane."
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw something.
Instead I just sat there.
"The girl before me," I said. "Vivian. What happened to her."
Long silence.
"I don't know," Lucien said finally.
"Liar."
"I don't. She left one night. I went to stop her. She was already gone."
"Gone where."
"If I knew that, I'd tell you."
I looked at my wrist. The words were still there. Bound. Mine.
"Did her contract look like this."
"No," he said. "Hers never activated."
I stood up. Unlocked the door. Opened it.
Lucien was standing in the hallway. His eyes were normal now. Tired.
I held up my wrist.
"Why did mine."
He looked at the words. Something crossed his face. Surprise, maybe. Or worry.
"I don't know," he said.
Then he reached out, carefully, and touched the burned letters.
His fingers were cold.
The marks flared brighter.
He pulled back fast.
"You need to stay inside," he said. "Don't go near the windows after dark. Don't answer the door. Don't bleed."
"That's it? That's your advice?"
"For now."
I laughed again. Same broken sound.
"You're a vampire."
"Yes."
"You drink blood."
"Yes."
"You were going to drink mine."
He met my eyes.
"No," he said. "I was trying not to."
Then he turned and walked back down the hall.
I stood there watching him go.
The words on my wrist pulsed once. Warm.
Bound.
Mine.
I closed the door.
This time I didn't lock it.