I always knew he wanted more from me—more than the cautious, fragile arrangement we had—but because of my daughter, because of that desperate thread of hope that one day I could return to the human world I once belonged to, he never sealed the bond completely. He never fed from me, never took that final step to claim me as his own. He left the choice open, always asking, gently and persistently, if I would consider crossing over—not as his bonded subject, but as his lover. To become ...