And then the car sped around a corner, and she was gone.

I should have known then. Instead, like a coward I’d blotted it out of my mind. I’d been shown her early on so that I could look out for her, keep her safe, but I’d been too determined not to fall into that trap again, and I’d turned my back on her.

I should have come for her when she was ready. My instincts would have told me—it might have been when she was eighteen or when she was twenty.

Instead I’d wasted all those years, when she could have been here, and safe.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she said. “Or thinking about—whatever. Why would I want to be here? I want to go back to my old life. I want to write books, and go out to lunch, and have lovers, and wear my own clothes. I—don’t—want—to—be—here,” she enunciated. “Is that clear enough for you?”

I moved past her, climbing back into the apartment, knowing she’d follow. I didn’t bother checking to see if the door was locked—no one, not even Azazel, would climb the stairs and interrupt us.

She came after me, of course. She watched, silent, as I found a bottle of wine and opened it, pouring us each a glass. I handed her one, and she took it, and for a moment I wondered if she was going to throw it in my face in the kind of dramatic gesture she was fond of.

“No,” she said, reading me, and went to sit on one of the sofas. “But I won’t say I’m not tempted.”

It had been so long since anyone had been able to read me that it was going to take some getting used to. She was already far too adept at it, considering how little sexual congress we’d actually indulged in. And I hadn’t fed from her.

I wouldn’t feed from her. Once I did, there’d be no going back, and there was just enough resistance left inside me to hold out that hope. At least for a little bit longer. Besides, she was still weak from Tamlel’s clumsiness, though I could sense her strength returning. That was one more sign that she was the Source. Her ability to bounce back from blood loss.

“You can’t go back to your old life, Allie,” I said wearily. “How many times do I have to explain this to you? You died. It happens to people all the time.

You don’t get a happy-ever-after with a prince, riding into the sunset. You don’t get a house with a white picket fence and two-point-three children. You won’t have any children, ever. You died too young for all those things.”

I heard her quick intake of breath, a sound of pain that she tried to hide from me. I would have thought she wouldn’t care about being a mother. I was wrong. About this, about so many things.

“So instead I get to be the meal plan for a bunch of vampires? Whoopee. Do I get weekly transfusions?”

I felt the now-familiar flare of anger at the thought, but I tamped it down. “You won’t need them. The Source provides blood for those who are unbonded, but the amount is minimal, the occasion is surrounded by ritual, and you won’t be called upon to serve more than once a month.” The moment I said it, I knew it was a bad choice of words.

“Serve?” she said. “Like a waitress with a hearty meal?”

She was doing her best to anger me, and she was succeeding. “No. Like someone with a higher calling.”

“Feeding blood to vampires is a higher calling?”

“Giving life to the Fallen is a higher calling. And the term is blood-eaters.”

“I don’t care what the term is, you’re vampires.”

I ground my teeth. She really did have an extraordinary ability to get under my skin, when I’d managed to be impervious to everything and everyone for so long. She was bringing me back to life, and reanimating the dead was always painful.

“Fine,” I said. “We’re vampires. Get over it.”

“What did you do in the past when the Source died? Did one of you have to quick find a willing sacrifice?”

Beneath her hostility I could sense a real concern, and I decided to answer her. “Azazel has been the only one married to the Source. The Source has never died suddenly—it was always natural causes and there was plenty of warning. The healers . . .” I wasn’t sure how I was going to phrase this, but Allie filched the image out of my mind.

“They take blood from her at regular intervals and store it,” she supplied. “How charming. So how long does Azazel get to mourn? How long before Sarah is replaced by some nubile young thing?”

“He has always had enough time to grieve. With Sarah it will be a problem. I don’t know how long it will take him to recover from her loss.”

“He’s had enough practice,” she said, her voice brutal. “So why me? And don’t give me that crap about being bonded mates—you and I both know that’s impossible. We don’t even like each other.”

I resisted the impulse to smile. She was putting so much effort into keeping me at a distance. She didn’t want me anywhere near her. She didn’t want me pushing her down among the pure white sheets, moving down her sweet, gorgeous body, tasting her, my hands on her thighs, my mouth—

“Don’t do that!” she said, shaken. She was searching for some way to stop me, some kind of insult. “After two nights ago, I thought you didn’t believe in foreplay.”

“Was I too fast for you?” I said, unruffled. “It seemed to me you were right there along with me. Are you telling me you didn’t like it?”

“Of course not!” she snapped. “I’m just saying that women like to be wooed, slowly and respectfully.”

I laughed. “So those orgasms were faked? You’re able to control your body that well? I must admit I’m impressed. And clearly my information was incorrect—it said you only climaxed by yourself. Which, by the way, is considered a sin by some scholars, but which we embrace enthusiastically.”

She was blushing, and I couldn’t resist her. “Come to bed with me,” I said, rising and holding out my hand.

She just looked at me, mutinous. “So you can feed on my wrist? You may as well do it here.”

“No.” Again I felt that little growl that seemed to come from nowhere. The growl I knew she sensed, and which frightened her. I struggled to control it. “I won’t take your blood. If I did, it would be from an artery, not a vein.”

“Ew,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What if you screw up your anatomy lessons?”

“I can hear the difference,” I said. “But it’s not going to happen.”

“Why won’t you take my blood? If I’m your supposed mate, what’s stopping you? Everyone else will be having a go at me.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

She looked at me, long and hard, and the conclusions she was jumping to were a mishmash in her brain. “Fine,” she said, rising. “You can sleep on the couch.” And she started for the bedroom.