“You’ve been in my journals,” Seamus replied.
The cold winter wind didn’t compare to the ice in Zack’s veins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Seamus withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and flicked open its screen. After a moment, he set it down on the table between them. A string of text notifications was on the screen. Each was just a date and time stamp with the word “Opened.”
“Takashi is clever, avoiding the switch in the desk like he did. But he either didn’t account for modern technologies or decided to risk exposure for the want of gaining new information.” Seamus took the phone back and put it in his pocket. “Suffice it to say, every square inch of the main floor and the dungeon have discreet cameras as well. I know where you went. I know what you saw.”
“That was weeks ago. You haven’t said anything,” Zack said. “Haven’t done anything.”
“Just as you haven’t thrown a single fit about your cousin being locked in a cell or used what you read as reason to disobey me. You’ve thrown yourself into research, which I can admire.Your intelligence is worth more than that silver blade of yours, but you are centuries behind your foes.” Seamus nudged the glass of wine toward him.
“You’ve researched all those people. Why choose me?” Zack asked. His voice felt like a ghost in his throat.
“I was honest with you, Zackery. Rare is the soul who not only understands what it means to drink my blood and be reborn but also pulls for that source. You have only just begun to settle into your new powers. I am thrilled to see how you will grow.”
“Who is ‘Grandmother’? What have you been stealing from her?”
“You are not ready for those secrets.”
“Does it have something to do with the rituals you’ve been using your sirelings for? What exactly do you and Anton do?” Zack asked.
Seamus set his wineglass onto the table between them with a definitive clink. He folded his hands over his lap and held Zack’s gaze. The mottled red and blue swirled together and deepened into a maroon while the whites of his eyes became pitch-black. Ice coated the table between them and frosted the surfaces of the glasses and the bottle, soon coating the metal as well. His fangs were longer, his nails sharper.
The bond between them cinched, like a rope that lost all its slack in an instant, burning as it went. The tugs of Zack’s dagger and the hook to Phyrull were all the more obvious as they pulled in other directions than Seamus. The air was scorching in Zack’s nose, down his throat, and he ached to feed with a desperation he’d only ever felt in bed.
Underneath all of that was Seamus’s hunger for Zack’s affection, for his loyalty. And the only ease of pressure was the pinprick of Seamus’s love for him.
“You are not ready, Zackery,” Seamus said firmly.
Then the instant was over. Seamus’s eyes were the same as they’d been a moment before. The ice remained on the glasses as the winter air could keep it cold. The suffocating hunger in Zack’s belly dimmed.
“You’re not … you’re not upset that Takashi and I went snooping,” Zack managed.
“I would have been more disappointed if the two of you had wasted your opportunities.”
“You’ve spent centuries crushing your intelligent offspring.”
“Candide would beg to differ. Besides, I am finally prepared to change the order of things.” Seamus poured more wine into his glass. “I want you to be among the vampires at my side well into the future.”
“What about Takashi?”
“I suppose.”
“But not Roger?”
“If your heart wants Roger, perhaps we’ll be able to arrange something. A house outside the city where you can keep him and he can remain out of the politics he’s never had a taste for,” Seamus said. “However, dawn is coming, and I didn’t drag you down here so you could doubt me all over again. I’d like to ease whatever was burdening your mind.”
Zack stared out into the dark. Beyond the iron fence were trees, and past that, the great wide world. He didn’t want to run for that fence anymore, and that change had nothing to do with the bond between him and Seamus. Where would he go if he left the mansion? He had no idea where Roger was or what he was planning. His mortal family would want to kill him on sight. Was he supposed to hide out in Blake’s house? With her parents? Go on the run with Takashi? Sure, they might be able to get away to some far corner of the globe, but what was he supposed to do then? And would any corner be far enough if Seamus’s ambitions went unchecked?
Seamus knew about what he was goals and didn’t give a damn. Of course, the bastard could be hiding his anger. He could turn on Zack in an instant. He’d done it to Anton. This was all manipulation. It had to be.
But Zack was so fucking tired.
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. His hair had barely grown in the three weeks since his rebirth. Since his last haircut had been well before his death, he should have been irritated that his hair was getting too long. Instead, he combed his hand through it and found it the perfect length.Rude that it didn’t change with me.
Slowly, Zack dragged the glass of wine off the table. Staring into its depths didn’t bring forth any solution.I could start a war.
One’s already here, his rational voice declared. According to what Takashi had said, that voice was right.
