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my neck in a slow glide sending shivers of revulsion down my spine. “And your brother? How does he fare? The one I turned. What was his name?” He snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes, Tony. Antonio Tranquilli, third eldest son of the Tranquilli bloodline, and second in line to the throne now that I made him vampire. Second in line after Prince Tranquilli’s blood daughter and my very own sexy kitten.”
    I bared my still flat teeth at him and hissed.
    “Yes, that’s it, luv. Purr for me. Show your true nature. You are vampire.”
    “Half.” And that half is going to rip out your throat and fry your ass the second you free my hands, you bastard.
    “I could change that to whole. If you ask nicely.” He stroked my cheek. “Perhaps even if you don’t.”
    “Put those fangs near me again and I’ll shatter them, you undead wanker.”
    Dixon barked a laugh. “I’ve missed your fire. These past months were such a bore. I was quite delighted to discover you survived your brother’s attack. Newborn vampires can be quite voracious. Their prey never survives. Yet here you are.”
    He wasn’t kidding.
    Tony had almost killed me because I refused to fight him, letting him feed from me instead. But I survived. I was alive, and my brother was undead. Dixon’s fault.
    “I hate you,” I spat out, then did what I should have done the second Stella and I ran into his trap. I called for help.
    I had a psychic connection with the older vampires in my family. Unfortunately, Dixon, like many old vamps, possessed uber psychic abilities. I tried to be fast, but he was faster. He blocked my call, easy peasy.
    “Jerk,” I grumbled, straining to hear sounds of the fight below us.
    Nothing but silence. Had his minions killed Stella? I doubted it, but my insanely powerful bodyguard should’ve dispatched Dixon’s gang by now. Unless he had a witch or wizard complicating matters. Maybe the same one who booby-trapped the box of blood. Crap.
    “Did you like my gift, pet?”
    Mind reader. So unfair. “Threw it away,” I lied. “Poured the blood down the sink.”
    His silver eyes flared and narrowed. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me, my pet.”
    Fangs bared, he slit his wrist and shoved it against my mouth. I tried not to swallow. God, how I tried, but his other hand worked my throat, forcing me to choke it down.
    His power streaked through me, planting roots. “Carina Tranquilli. By my blood, you are marked. Soon you will be mine. Only mine. But first, nine more nights of blood.”
    He pulled back his wrist. His blood tasted of tobacco and Guinness—smoky, bitter, syrupy, and sour. Disgusting. I gagged. Cold fingers covered my mouth, and he held tight until my nausea subsided and his foul blood settled in my system.
    “Good girl.” My sweaty forehead received an unwelcome kiss from him, making me shudder. “Now, about my gift that you have not destroyed.”
    “Yet,” I snarled.
    “Starting tomorrow tonight, you will drink one vial per night at precisely nine in the evening. On that last evening, you will come to me.”
    That earned him a snort of derision. “As if.”
    Instead of smacking me for my insolence, he withdrew his power. A prickling sensation flooded my numb fingers as I lowered my arms, but to hell with it. Numb fingers could form a fist. I let it fly, aiming a jab for the knockout spot on his ugly chin. Missed by a hair, due to his hyper speed, but I’d expected that move and clocked him with my other hand, jerking his head to the side.
    Of course, the bastard recovered all too quickly and had the nerve to smirk at me. “One more thing, my feisty kitten.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, putting me even more on edge. “I have your friends.”
    My mind raced through the handful of people he could mean. I knew the whereabouts of those closest to me. All safely ensconced in our warded homes or clubs. Except for—
    Dread daggered my gut. “No.”
    He couldn’t have them. They were at the witch