Id won.

I growled and flicked the tip of my tongue against his ear, ignoring my own warnings. "Ethan."

"Luc, you'll have to - I haven't - " He groaned earthily - and God, what a sound, thick enough to touch - as I trailed a line of kisses down his neck. "I haven't fed in two days.

Merit, you have to stop." Given that he was leaning into my body when he said it, his words lacked conviction.

A hand grasped my arm. Ever so slowly, I turned my head to find coral-painted nails digging into my biceps. The touch was enough to distract me, to make me realize, my lips still against Ethan's neck, that I was acting out the Canon. Despite his protests, I'd pushed on and was preparing to bite him. I was preparing to rip down his clothes and take him on the floor.

I was preparing, in every conceivable fashion, to service my lord.

That insight did it, pushed me through the hunger with an ice-cold hand, pushed me through the desire to the other side - back to the land of rational thought and good choices.

Gathering all the strength I had, I inhaled and pushed myself away from him and from her, needing space to regain control of my body. I hunched over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath. The hunger left me sweating even in my thin T-shirt and jeans, goose bumps prickling my arms as my body cooled again. I could still feel the hunger, a caged tiger prowling through my body, eager for sustenance, waiting to rise again. I knew any control I displayed was temporary. Illusory.

But in some deep, new core of me, I reveled in that knowledge. The tiger paced and was thrilled to be merely biding her time. She would have her chance.

She would drink.

Luc asked, "Blood?"

"Kitchen," Ethan hoarsely answered. "They delivered bagged. Amber, go with him. Give us a minute."

"Lot of control for seventy-two hours," Luc observed. "She reined it back in."

"If I wanted observations, I'd ask for them." His voice was firm, obviously troubled. "Go into the kitchen and ready the blood, please."

When we were alone, when I'd slowed my breathing, I stood straight again and dared to meet his eyes. I waited for a sarcastic response, but he merely looked back at me, his expression carefully blank.

"It's fine," he said, his tone clipped. "To be expected."

"Not by me."

Ethan pulled at the edges of his shirt collar, then smoothed the lapels of his jacket. Regaining his composure, I thought, maybe because he'd wanted something from me, as well. The silvering of his eyes demonstrated that, however much he protested.

"First Hunger can arise suddenly," Ethan said. "There's no need to apologize."

I arched a brow at him. "I wasn't going to apologize. If it wasn't for you, there'd be no thirst."

"Don't forget your place, Initiate."

"As if you'd let me."

"Someone has to remind you," Ethan said, stepping closer so that the cuffs of his trousers topped my sneakers. "You promised me submission. You agreed that your rebellious behavior was done. You agreed not to challenge me again. And yet you're poised to bring the walls of Cadogan House down around us."

"Master or not," I said, glaring up at him, "take it back, or I'll challenge you again." I'd been betrayed enough times in my life to know the value of honor and honesty, and tried to live by that code. "I have given you no reason to doubt my loyalty, which is a fairly tremendous thing given how you changed me."

His nostrils flared, but he didn't challenge the statement. "Merit, so help me, if you support Tate's office over my House. . . ."