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Victor rose from his chair. “A vampire can block you if they are so inclined. There will be times when you need to break through that barrier. Be patient. It will come.”

She flung out her arms, frustration rising along with her voice. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to break barriers. I don’t want to experience a stranger’s emotions, their fears, their worries. I don’twantto feel a father’s addiction or a mother’s disgust for her freak of a child.” Shards of pain lanced her heart, and she bit her trembling lip.

Victor took a step closer, looking down his aristocratic nose, displeasure stamped on his face. “It’s time you gave up your childish fears and embraced the gift you’ve been given. It is no longer acceptable for you to deny your true nature. You are a sympath, and your abilities are going to grow stronger as you mature. Either you control your gift, or it will control you.”

Alex glared at the powerful vampire as she stepped back. Heartless prick. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. “Why the hell would I want to embrace something that’s brought me nothing but misery? I’m telling you, it’s a worthless ability. Training me is a waste of time.”

“Worthless?” He canted his head.

Suffocating silence permeated the air. The kind of silence that stood your hair on end. The kind of silence that heralds a storm. A storm that blows into your life, laying waste to everything in its path.

The muscle in Victor’s angular jaw flexed, his eyes taking on a predatory slant. “Tell me this. What worth do you place on your father’s life or on Liam’s?”

“What?” What was he talking about? She valued their lives even more than her own.

“If you mastered how to use it, a gift like yours could warn you of a loved one’s deceit. Alert you to the fact they’d, once again, succumbed to their addiction. In an expert’s hands, it could have even diminished that disorder.”

Her blood turned to ice, and she clamped her arms around her stomach. How did he know about her father? She threw a glare of accusation to Jericho, who shook his head. Not Jericho, then. Did Victor have her investigated?

The clan leader drew closer, matching every step she took in retreat. “Thisworthlessgift could serve as a warning when a violent thug stands outside your door. Give you time to shore up your defenses before they brutalize you and snap your father’s neck. With proper training, you’d be able to wield it like a weapon and turn that aggression back on your attackers.”

“What are you saying? That it’s my fault my father’s dead?” Alex asked, shrinking away from him. Was he right? Had she let her father die?

“My liege,” Jericho said, caution in his tone.

Cold, unwavering, Victor ignored the interruption as he stood directly before her. “You see, Alexandra, a sympath’s ability allows them to both sense and manipulate emotion. Thisworthlessgift might have even prevented two assassins from harming your benefactor.”

“No.” Her chest caved in on itself. “I tried to warn Liam, but it was impossible to tell where the threat was coming from. The room was too crowded.” She covered her face with trembling hands. Was this all her fault?

Jericho stormed to her side. His thick arms engulfed her, tucking her against his chest, shielding her from Victor’s attack. Protective rage burned across her nerve endings, and she welcomed it.

“I believemy Chosenhas had enough for one day,” Jericho stated, not asking.

Unlike her evaluation, this time, he’d come to her defense. Thank goodness. Whatever the cause for his change of heart, she was grateful.

In the icy quiet that followed, all she registered was the pounding of her own heartbeat. She dared not move an inch, waiting with bated breath for the clan leader to retaliate, punishing Jericho for his interference.

“She lacks motivation,” Victor said, tone frigid. “Instead of indulging the girl—”

Three knocks sounded on the door, followed by two more. She lifted her head. Alphonse stepped into the room, executed a deep bow, and swept out his arm. Three men strode into the office.

Victor stiffened. “Magister Steele, this is unexpected. To what do we owe this honor?”

* * *

Holy crap cakes.Just when Alex thought things couldn’t get worse, in walked the head of the Council, Tiberius Steele. With his arrival, she’d officially bounced out of Victor’s frying pan and into the Council’s fire.

She pressed closer to Jericho, trying to dissolve into him and disappear.

Tiberius Steele’s stature reflected the powerful position he held. He was a large man with a husky build. His head was clean-shaven, while his close-cropped beard was a stony mixture of black and silver. Humans would place him in his late fifties—if he were a mere mortal.

He entered Victor’s office as though he had a right, owning the space. With cold eyes, he surveyed the room, pausing at the bookcase. He curled a disdainful lip. “Still collecting your little trinkets, I see.”

She noted he didn’t bother to return Victor’s greeting, nor did the magister answer the clan leader’s question.

The men who followed him took positions at the door while the magister strolled behind Victor’s desk. There, he slicked two fingers over the surface, rubbing imaginary dirt against his thumb before sinking his massive frame into the leather chair.

He leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. “Asriel?”