I landed flat on my back with Ethan above me, his body stretched atop mine. He neatly captured my wrists in his hands and pushed them - despite my squirming - to the mat above my head.

The crowd erupted into catcalls and lewd suggestions.

"You baited me!" I accused.

His lips scant inches from my face, he smiled wolfishly. "And so easily." I squirmed, but he pushed me harder against the mat and slid a knee between mine. "Initiate, you can guess exactly where that's going to lead."

I growled in irritation.

At least, I told myself it was irritation, and not at all the fact he smelled delicious, a clean combination of linen, cotton, and soap. Not the fact that the weight of his body on mine felt completely natural - a languid heat suddenly flowing through my chest, like the union of our bodies had closed a circuit.

I tried to tune out the sensation and, embarrassed at the silvering of my eyes - I have to admit, I had a sudden, new sympathy for men faced with hiding their arousal - I squeezed them shut. Ethan let me calm, and when I finally opened my eyes, his face was blank.

"Do you agree that you failed to land a blow?"

I paused, but nodded. "Unless you're willing to give me a freebie?"

For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to my lips. I wondered if he'd kiss me, if he thought about it, if he felt the pull like I did. But he looked away, then loosened my wrists and pushed himself up. He offered me a hand, which I took, and let him pull me to my feet . . . to the boos and general disappointment of the peanut gallery.

"Is this why you came?" he asked when we were both upright again. "To fight me?"

Mallory must have heard the question over the mumbling of the crowd, as she stepped forward, the note in her outstretched hand. "We came for this."

Ethan wiped his brow with the back of a hand, then took the note. He read it, his expression blanking. "Where did you get this?"

"It was wrapped around a brick that was thrown through our living room window," I said.

His gaze snapped up. "Were you hurt?" He scanned my body, looking for injuries.

"We're fine. There were three of us in the house, and we're all fine."

"Three?"

"Mallory's boyfriend was there."

"Ah."

I thumped the note with a finger. "What's this about? Is there a vampire war I don't know about? Did changing me piss someone off?"

He frowned as he perused the note again. "Perhaps your initial attacker is bitter about not having finished the job, or about my having finished it for him. We believed he, the one who bit you, was a Rogue - a vampire living outside the House system. The note would suggest that's true. It's also possible there's a connection between your attack and the attack that killed Jennifer Porter."

It wasn't the first time I'd considered that connection, but the idea was more unnerving coming from his lips. It gave legitimacy to the possibility that I was the intended victim of a vampireturned-serial killer. But it also raised other questions.

"You know, it's quite a coincidence that you were trolling across campus at the same time I was attacked by a vamp."

He lifted deeply green eyes to mine. "There was a considerable amount of luck involved."

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Ethan," I softly said, "you didn't kill Jennifer Porter, did you?"

His lashes fell, crescents of long, dark blond against golden skin. "No, I didn't kill her. Nor did anyone from my House."