Constantine hands me my phone and says, “I called Cole. Left a voicemail. He will no doubt call you as soon as he gets it.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from him. “Can I have a word?”
He nods suspiciously and I motion him over to the other side of the room, not that we’ll get any privacy anyway.
“I am so mad with you, I am itching to get my sword out,” I hiss at him.
He looks somewhat startled by my threat but then his face hardens. “May I ask why?” he asks quietly.
“You told him he had seconds to make a choice. If you had made him think he had more time, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” I snap.
He looks at me like I have grown another head. “You wanted me to lie to him, so that she died?” he asks in disbelief. “Really, Aefre, that shocks me. I thought your murderous ways were behind you.”
“How dare you? I didn’t do this to her. I am thinking only of Devon, of my charge who didn’t want this. Do you know how difficult she is going to be when she wakes? He isn’t ready for that, and he shouldn’t have been put in this position,” I whisper-snap at him.
“That is the price you pay when you cavort with humans,” he whisper-snaps back at me. “It is a risk especially when the human wants to be turned,” he adds haughtily.
“If it offends your delicate sensibilities to lie to protect someone I love, then you should have at least let me turn her,” I say.
“At the risk of what? We don’t know what will happen and this was not the time to experiment. We are in a hotel, outside of our hometown. The last thing we need is an even bigger mess to clean up. I told him his choices and he made one.” He narrows his eyes at me now and a cruel look passes across his face as he says, “Or would you rather I had stepped up and offered to turn her? Made her a new sibling for you.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE
I stare at him in disbelief that he has just said that to me. Without a second thought, I do something I have never even dared to think about doing in a thousand years and bring my hand up to give him a resounding slap to the face. He blinks at me as if he can’t quite believe I had the nerve to do that, before he brings his own hand up to slap me back. I put my hand to my cheek and gape at him in horror, before I realize it wasn’t him that slapped me. It was Sebastian. He had moved so quickly to defend his sire that I didn’t even see him.
“Try that again and I won’t hold back next time,” he snarls at me before I launch myself at him, claws and fangs drawn. He is just as quick as me and, expecting my attack, he grabs me by the arm, twisting me around painfully, his other hand on the back of my neck, keeping my claws out of his reach. I elbow him – hard – in the stomach with my free arm and as he bends over, the wind knocked out of him briefly, I bring the back of my fist up into his face and he loosens his grip. Pulling myself free, I spin, quick as lightning, and have him by the throat, slamming him to the floor with a loud thud. All the commotion has caused everyone to find out what is going on, so I have a gaping audience as I straddle Sebastian and growl at him, “Lay a hand on me again and I will rip your fucking head off.”
He sneers at me as our sire pulls me off his first charge. I struggle to get free as he puts me on my feet. I am hurt beyond belief that he has chosen Sebastian over me, but that is short-lived as he launches himself at Sebastian, fist bunched, and nearly knocks his head off. He goes skidding across the floor to end up in a heap on the other side of the room. I step back, gaping at them. “If you ever so much as look at her wrong again, I will do the honors,” CK snarls.
“That’s the fucking thanks I get for coming to your defense? I should have known you’d take her side,” Sebastian hisses at him, as he gets to his feet.
“I don’t need you to defend me, ‘Bastian. Not against anyone and certainly not against Aefre. Apologize,” he says shortly.
Sebastian glares at me, not with hatred but something fairly close. Oh, well, so much for becoming friends. “I apologize. It is a natural reaction, as I am sure you can appreciate,” he says formally.
Well, I can’t argue with that. “I accept. I apologize for flattening you,” I say with just a hint of sarcasm. I turn to my sire and I am genuinely abashed. “I’m sorry,” I say with my eyes down.
He crosses to me and lifts my chin up, saying, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I am the one who is sorry. I knew the reaction you would give.” He pauses before adding, “Well, maybe not exactly.” I smile and he kisses me lightly. “Am I forgiven?” he asks softly, not just for the sibling remark, but also for the other thing I was accusing him of.
“Always, my love,” I whisper.
“For fuck's sake!” Sebastian snaps. “This is ridiculous. She has you wrapped so tightly around her little finger you forget yourself.”
Constantine turns to his first charge and says, “I won’t take offense to that, my boy. She tends to make one forget oneself.”
“No kidding,” he says with a sneer. “I expect this infatuation from the weaker ones, but you? I’m surprised. I mean, I know she is a good fuck but Christ…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair as everyone silently stares at him. My eyes go wide in horror as my brain catches up with what he has just said. His eyes snap to mine as he also realizes what he has just said. I open my mouth to do damage control, as he sneers and opens his mouth to twist the knife a bit more.
We both look at our sire, who looks like he is about to kill both of us as I say, “He used his gift on me.”
Sebastian says quickly, “She made a move. I wasn’t going to say ‘no.’”
The tension in the air ratchets up a thousand notches and no one says a word. Sebastian and I are staring at our sire who has turned his back on us, more out of restraint not to kill us than out of dismissal. Devon, Lincoln, and Scott sidle quietly and slowly back into the bedroom, choosing Jess in her prone state, over me in my soon-to-be dead one. I don’t blame them. I kind of wish I could also retreat.
Constantine turns to look first at me and then at Sebastian. His face is impassive, unreadable. Unfortunately for me, Sebastian has one thousand, seven hundred and sixty years on me at our sire’s side and has the capability to adopt the same blank expression. He stares impassively back at him.
Constantine turns to me. “When?” he asks.
“Yesterday evening. Before we came downstairs for dinner,” I stammer.