I looked up at him. "There has to be something between anarchy and subjection."

Ethan glanced up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. "Why do you think of it as subjection? You saw the vampires at my House. You saw the House. Was it a dungeon? Did they look miserable? When you challenged me, was I unfair to you? Did I treat you cruelly or give you a fair chance to prove yourself? You're smarter than this."

He was right, of course. The vampires in the House clearly respected him and looked, at least to my eyes, to be happy in their acquiescence to his leadership. But that didn't mean I was able, blindly, to put my trust in him, or any of them. I didn't have a cache of faith big enough for that.

We stood silently until Ethan made a final, frustrated sound and called for Amber and Luc. As they moved through the living room, Amber skewered me with a look that was both knowing and victorious. She somehow knew, had probably heard, what he'd offered me, and that I'd turned it down. But I hadn't just taken myself out of the running; I'd secured her position. She winked jauntily, and I felt a sudden, unwelcome stab of jealousy. I didn't want his hands on her. I didn't want her touching him. But I'd had my chance to take her place, and I'd refused. The decision had been made, so I ignored the irritation and looked away.

"Let's go," Ethan said.

Luc nodded at me. "There's blood on the counter. It's warm and ready to drink."

Ethan didn't look at me as he turned for the door, and I felt the weight of his disappointment. However illogical, I wanted him proud of me, proud of my fight and my strength, not disappointed that I'd failed to meet the basic criteria for vampire behavior. On the other hand, I shouldn't have to apologize for not crawling into bed with the head of my House.

Luc and Amber preceded him outside. There were two vehicles at the curb - a black Mercedes roadster that I guessed was Ethan's, and a heavy black SUV. Luc and Amber headed for the latter. Traveling security, I assumed.

When he reached the first step, Ethan turned and glanced back at me, his face carefully blank.

"I would have asked you if I could have, Merit. I'd have asked for your consent, and had you make the decision then and there. But I didn't. Couldn't have, without your dying. There certainly wasn't time for you to debate the merits of affiliation. Would that I had. Would that I had, so the choice would have been made."

After a pause, he continued, his voice suddenly tired. "The clock is ticking. You have four days until the Commendation, until your formal initiation into the House. The time is coming when you'll have to take a stand, Merit. One way or the other, you'll decide whether you want to accept the life you've been given and make the most of it, or run away and live on the fringes of our society, withstand the humiliation of being rejected by the House, by everyone else like you. By everyone who understands what you are. Who you are. How you thirst." His gaze intensified. "Your desire. And that decision, such as it is, is yours." With that, he trotted down the stairs.

I followed him outside, and flanked by the two guards at my door, I stood on the stoop and called his name. He glanced back.

"About the . . . hunger. Will it always be like that?"

He gave me a rueful smile. "Rather like being a Cadogan vampire, Merit, it will be what you make it."

I had to give him credit - he was right about one thing. The time had come for me to make a decision.