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Lip curling, he wipes my blood on his pants. “You probably still will.”

“Excuse me?” I recoil instantly, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“Feign ignorance all you want, Célie. You’re a vampire now. Everything we felt as humans, we feel deeper as vampires—anger turns to rage, pleasure to bliss. That means we’re often drawn to the blood of those with whom we feel an emotional attachment. You proved that today.” Clasping his hands behind his back in that infuriatingly superior way, he steps away from me. “If you want to protect your loved ones, learn how to feed—or don’t. I don’t particularly care what happens to your darling Jean Luc either way.” He shrugs, his black eyes glittering with malice. “And you still owe me a question.”

A question.

A snarl tears from my throat, and the sound is so foreign, soinappropriate, I can almost pretend it isn’t mine. “Are youjealous? Is that what this is? I followed Jean Luc instead of you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, pet. You broke Toussaint’s heart and nearly ate it this morning—I think we can do better, don’t you?” Then, harsher still, “Three questions.”

“Like hell.” I stab a finger at his chest. “This isn’t a game to me. Just because you’re toorepressedto say how you feel without guise doesn’t mean I’m going to indulge you.” He snorts derisively at that—as if I’ve said something hilarious—and I nearly scream with frustration, shoving him with two hands now. “What exactly are you suggesting, Michal?” When his cloak tangles at my feet, I hurl it behind me, searing with heat as scarlet washes across my vision. It smells like him. It smells likeus. “And how can I learn to feed when I’m alwaysstarving? I just fed from you this morning—I drank more than I should’ve—yet evenlookingat you now, I want to—to—” I cannot finish the sentence, choking on the words, and he shakes his head in disappointment.

“Still refusing to listen to your body.” When I shove him again, his eyes flash, but he refuses to yield a single step. “Four questions.”

“You want me to listen to my body?”

“I do. Five.”

Blood roars in my ears. Forget rending the Chasseurs’ heads from their shoulders—I’m going to tear Michal into little pieces and scatter him across Requiem. Vision narrowing on his horrible,beautifulface, I lunge, but he sidesteps easily, catching my elbow and spinning me in a smooth pirouette. I slam my fist against his chest instead. To my astonishment, he doesn’t try to stop me. No. Hesteadiesme as I stagger backward, cursing and clutching myhand. “You want to hit me,” he says, eyes blazing. “Good. Do it again.”

“What do you—?”

“Hit me, Célie.” He seizes my fist and wrenches it toward his chest. When I splay my fingers in protest, piercing his skin with my nails, he captures my chin in a brutal grip. If I were human, it might bruise, but I’m not human—and neither is he. Leaning low, he bares his teeth and snarls, “I can take your blows. I can take your bite too if you’ll let me. What I’msuggestingis you feed from me until you learn how to control it.”

I claw at his wrist, his chest, unsure whether I’m pulling him closer or pushing him away. “Why would you do that?”

The question acts like a bucket of ice water over Michal’s head.

His body stiffens, and he hesitates, drawing back slightly to look at me. His eyes search mine for a split second, fraught with—something, but they shutter again just as quickly. And I hate it. Ihatethis newfound hesitation. Because Michal has never hesitated before. Michal has never recoiled from me. Indeed, when his hand falls from my chin, I want to strike him anew, to seize his shoulders andshakehim until he tells me why he’s acting so—so—

“You cannot hurt me,” he says simply, his expression cool and unaffected. Too cool. Too unaffected. “Not like you can the others.Thatis why I’m offering my blood—because you must learn how to feed, or you’ll never forgive yourself.” And then, incredibly, “Six questions.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

And in the instant it takes for those words to penetrate, I know exactly what I want to do. “You presumptuousass,” I hiss angrily. “You want to teach me how to feed? Fine.Fine.Let’s go.”

Shoving him aside, I storm out of the ballroom and up the wide, sweeping staircase in search of someone—anyone—with whom to prove him wrong.

Across the deck, Odessa and Dimitri rise from an enormous crate at the sight of me. I seem to have interrupted them mid-conversation, but Odessa’s face has softened since she left us; the anger simmering in her eyes has slightly cooled. It’s all the permission I need.

The time for answers and explanations will come later, but for now, a wave of recklessness crashes through me, and I march over to Dimitri without preamble. “Hello again, Dima. Michal says I need to learn how to feed.”

Bemused by the abrupt greeting, he glances at Odessa, but he still accepts my hand without hesitation. He even presses a chaste kiss to my knuckles as Michal arrives, dark and silent as a shadow. “Nice to see you too, Célie darling. And how has my most delectable friend been faring since we parted?”

“She’s beenstarving. Thank you for asking.”

“Ah, yes.” Dimitri grins, his gaze sweeping down my new figure. The impact is only marginally ruined by Michal’s overlarge cloak and my stained nightgown, but he kindly ignores both.Odd.The blood down my front hasn’t yet dried, but his body remains at ease. “We turned you into a vampire without teaching you how to act like one. Quite rude, wasn’t it?” Flicking an arch glance around the deck, he lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Though between the two of us, there might not be much to teach. Everyone on this ship looks approximately four seconds away from begging you to eat their heart.”

“Including you?”

Dimitri blinks in surprise before grinning wider, revealing his dimples. A devilish glint enters his eyes. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, darling.”

Michal scoffs.

Good.Though my cheeks warm, I force myself to stay still, to see how far I can take this. I’ve never acknowledged Dimitri’s flirtation before—let alone indulged it—because the stakes around us have always been too high. Furthermore, he never actually meant it. He doesn’t mean it now either, but he also doesn’t seem able to resist playing with me. He loves a game, Dimitri, especially one that irritates his cousin, and Idoneed to eat. Wouldn’t it be better to feed from someone I cannot accidentally kill? “You’d consider it, then?” I ask him.

I ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach. Once upon a time, I flirted often—with Reid, with the local bookseller, with the handsome young men of society. Truthfully, I even enjoyed it. The thrill of a moment, a simple connection.