I tug on the choker still wrapped tight around my neck. It feels like it’s suffocating me all of a sudden.
I hate that he’s able to control me this way, all because he’s mymaster.
Was that his plan all along? Entrap me by turning me?
I should leave.
I’ll have to if I want to do anything with my undead life. If not now, then eventually.
I peer down at the card again. I’ll call Santiago, ask him more about his offer. Since Sanguine is a big company like VMR, I’m sure there’s a spot for me somewhere. And I’ll be free from Lucian’s rules.
Something stirs in the air, and I turn to the door.
Lucian.
He walks over to me, his gaze dropping to the card in my hand. “You’re considering leaving.”
I try to hide the card behind my back, but he snatches my wrist to hold it out between us.
“Santiago isn’t who you think he is,” he says.
“How would you know what I think?”
He sighs. “I’ve known him a very,verylong time. My master wasn’t like I am. He turned then abandoned me, left me to discover what I was alone. But I searched for him, crossed the ocean and followed him to Spain. That’s where I met Santiago, newly turned, ready to burn the world to the ground…”
I keep my mouth shut. This is the most Lucian has ever shared about himself, especially his past.
“Santiago was my first connection to the vampire world, but he had been as lost as I had been when I was first turned. I taught him what I knew, but while I wanted to survive and thrive among humans, Santiago wanted to rule. I moved on. He…moved sideways.”
“Did you ever find your master?” I ask, once he goes silent again. There’s so much more I want to know.
“I did,” he says. “In 1910.”
I blink.1910?
“How oldareyou?”
His lips curl in a smirk. “Old.”
“How old?” I ask again.
He pauses, debating whether or not to tell me. But then… “I was born in 1715, in Bristol, England. I died in 1747.”
“Shit…” I breathe.
If he’s bothered by my reaction, he doesn’t show it. “Don’t let Santiago’s dubious charm and good looks fool you. He’s dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.” He turns to walk out, but I’m not ready for this conversation to end yet.
“You said you found your master?” I call after him.
He stops mid-step.
“What did you do when you found him?”
He faces me again, and then, very bluntly, he says, “I killed him.”
I don’t know what I was expecting for an answer, but it wasn’t that.
“Are you thinking about killing me, Monty?” he asks. He doesn’t smile, just stands there, arms crossed, blocking the door.
