I don't understand the abrupt change in his attitude and demeanor, but he's shut himself off from me again, and I have no choice. I answer the summons.

He waits for me to take a seat across from him before beginning.

We have important things to discuss. It's getting late and I must return to my guests. If you don't wish to accompany me, I suggest we get down to business.

I nod, but my paranoia springs back. How do I know the people in the other room can't hear us?

Avery tilts his head. Listen.

I do. Soft music, classical, something low and sweet drifts on the air from hidden speakers. I listen harder. Below the music, a hum. White noise?

He nods.

Prevents thought transference from room to room. I value my privacy. I protect that of my guests.

That electrical circuit thing you mentioned?

He nods again.

I hesitate, but for just a moment. I have to trust Avery.

Max is an undercover agent with the DEA. His life depends on keeping our relationship a secret. He only visits me when it's absolutely safe. I never know when he'll show up, so I need to know how you found out about his visit.

Avery purses his lips. He's closed his mind so I can only wait until he's ready to reply. But the fact that all of a sudden, this mind reading is a one-way street is beginning to grate. I make it a point to let him know it.

You'll learn the trick soon enough, he fires back. Now do you want an answer to your question?

I swallow down the caustic retort I want to fling across at him and just say , yes.

You are the one being watched.

Me? Why?

I told you this afternoon. You may be in danger. You don't have all your powers yet. It's our custom to protect fledglings, so to speak, until they find their wings.

And you didn't think it important to tell me this?

Would you have approved?

Of course not. I can take care of myself.

The way you did with Donaldson?

He throws it out like a challenge, his eyes flashing.

Now my irritation bubbles over and erupts into full-blown anger. “Donaldson was a fluke. David and I have handled much worse and come out on top. Vampire or no, we would have had him if things hadn't gotten so crazy."

"Oh, you think so?"

Before I can draw a breath, Avery is up and out of his chair. He sweeps me from mine and I am pinned under his body on the floor. I can't move my hands or my legs. His weight is crushing. His lips are at my ear and he whispers, “Can you take me?"

I don't understand what's happening. Avery is strong, stronger even than Donaldson. But there's nothing sexual in this attack. Does he mean to kill me?

I can't read his thoughts. His breath is ragged in my ear. I feel his mouth at my neck.

Suddenly, something changes.

His neck is there, a pulsing heartbeat, in reach. Panic becomes blood lust. He eases his grip and I pull an arm free, yanking at his tie until it loosens, ripping at the top button of his shirt until it gives way. With animal instinct, I tear at him. I snap and gnaw with my teeth until the skin breaks and there is a glorious rush of adrenaline-laced fire coursing down my throat. He tastes of wine and sunshine and I work a hand free to hold his head captive while I drink.

I drink.

A fragment of a thought breaks through.

Anna, enough.

But I clutch at Avery, drawing him even closer. I don't want to stop .

You must.

Avery is now lying very still. He does not try to pull away. His mind is open, a feeling of euphoria radiating from him like heat from the sun. He is calmly waiting for me to make the decision.

I think it's what saves him. I drop my head back onto the carpet, awash with guilt and shame. What have I done?

Avery shifts his weight and looks down at me for a long moment. Then he lifts himself off me, and holds out a hand to help me up.

You did what I wanted you to do, he says.

You wanted this to happen?

Avery still has my hand. He guides me back to the chair and I sink into it. He returns to the sideboard and pours another glass of wine. Holding it out to me, he asks, How do you feel?

I take the glass, but I don't drink. Instead, I place it on the desk, my mind reeling with the implications of what I've done. I look over at Avery. He's holding a hand against his neck as if it hurts. There's blood on his collar.

"I didn't want to stop."

He smiles.

"What if I hadn't? What if I'd drained you?"

But you didn't.

"But I might have. The sensation, the pleasure of feeding ... I don't know that I will always be able to stop."

His smile widens. You can, Anna, and you will. That's why this happened.

Avery leans toward me. You needed to feed. The blood of an old soul is the most powerful and I knew you weren't likely to feed on your own. I wanted you to see that it is instinctive to feed, just as instinctive as it once was to breathe. And I wanted you to realize that you do not have to hurt or kill your host to satisfy your own needs.

But you are not mortal. You could have stopped me, I know that. You are much more powerful than I am.

For now. Your power is growing.

But what if it had been a man?

You mean, what if it had been Max?

Yes.

Whose voice did you hear telling you to stop?

My own. It was my own.

He smiles again. Your instincts kicked in as I knew they would. Becoming does not alter the type of person you are. Good or evil still exists for us. Just as you have a heartbeat, you also have a soul. You are a good person, Anna. That will not change. Only your physical realities are altered.

Then what happened to Donaldson? He had no prior history of violence in his record. How did he turn into a killer?

Avery shrugs. The image Donaldson projected to the world was much different than the reality. He had a dark side.

Unfortunately, becoming for him meant unleashing that dark side.

He pushes back from the desk and his expression hardens. His eyes become flat and, once again, unreadable. He studies me for a long moment before the spark of some indefinable emotion flares and his mind opens.

I'm glad you've been thinking of Donaldson.

I sniff. How could I not?

Do you understand what I've explained to you about the gift? Do you accept the reality?

Do I have a choice?

"You always have a choice,” he says aloud. “The question is what you choose to do with your life as it now is."

My life as it now is.

It's such a simple statement, and yet it hits me with the force of a lightning bolt. Maybe it's because I haven't had time yet to truly digest all that's happened. Maybe it's because there's some small part of me that still thinks this is a dream and I'll awaken and everything will be the same as before. Whatever the reason, I don't know what to say.

Avery nods, picking through my conflicting thoughts and emotions and responding to them. That's understandable. And I wish you had the luxury of taking your time to sort it all out. But you don't, Anna.

His tone is sad and his eyes full of concern.

It scares me. “Why do you say that?"

Avery stands and moves away from the desk. He goes to a closet where he pulls out a fresh shirt from an armoire inside. As if oblivious to my presence, he takes off his coat and tie, removes the soiled shirt and slips on a clean one. He leaves the tie on the desk, but he puts his jacket back on. All the while, his thoughts are carefully sealed away from me.