Page 4 of Caller of Crows

"I'll admit that I did not pay enough attention. You seemed like any other mortal… until you drew the knife."

"You speak as if you know a lot of mortals."

A distant look appeared in Altair's eyes. "You forget that all vampires were mortals once."

"I'm not forgetting anything," Sven argued. "I approached you because I want to be turned, remember?"

Altair's smile turned cruel. "Ah, yes. The foolish mortal who thinks he can handle immortality."

Sven gritted his teeth, anger rising within him. "I know what I'm getting myself into."

"Do you?" Altair leaned down, his breath cold against Sven's lips. "Do you know what it's like to never feel the sun on your skin again? To always thirst for blood? To watch everyone you've ever known grow old and die, while you remain forever young?"

"I don't care," Sven said, more than a little distracted by the vampire's sudden proximity.

"Don't care?" Altair leaned up and chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You should care, mortal. There's a reason it's called the eternal gift. There's no do-overs. No going back."

"I know all that," Sven ground out. What, did this vampire think he hadn't done his research? "It's not fair that some of us are stuck being mortal while you get to live forever." He said this as if hewantedto live forever, as if that was the reason he'd sought Altair out. He kept that thought at the forefront of his mind too, unwilling to let the vampire glimpse his real motivations.

The moment he was a vampire, he'd turn his mother and save her from the illness that was killing her.

He'd suffer any fate to make that happen.

"You're hiding something," Altair said, studying him, eyes roaming Sven's body in a way that made Sven acutely aware of his nakedness, that made heat creep into his skin in a way that he wanted to deny.

He was not attracted to vampires.

Not even stupidly beautiful ones.

Why had they undressed him anyway?

Was this a coven of perverts? Were all vampires perverts?

"We had to examine you," Altair said. "We can hardly sell blood when we can't vouch for its quality."

Those words sobered Sven right up. His fists clenched. "So how did I do? Am I a quality product ready for consumption?"

Altair tilted his head, observing Sven with a curious gleam in his dark eyes. "You tell me."

Sven's face flushed with anger. "You're toying with me," he accused the vampire. "I came here to bargain with you and you're not taking me seriously at all."

"Ah, yes, the 'deal' you wanted to strike with me," Altair remembered, unimpressed with Sven's tone. "You made a fatal mistake there."

Sven's stomach churned. "What mistake?"

Altair gestured at Sven, at the chains that bound him to the bed. "You had nothing to offer me that I could not simply take."

Sven's heart sank as he realized the truth in Altair's words. He had been desperate and stupid and now he was completely at the mercy of this vampire. "You can't keep me against my will," he tried weakly. "This city has laws. The dragons—"

"You knew who I was when you came to me," Altair cut him off.

"I did."

"And when you were looking me up," Altair prompted, "did anything you find say that I was a very lawful vampire?"

A sense of dread washed over Sven as he considered the question. He hadn't found anything like that. "No," he admitted.

Altair leaned in close again, speaking into Sven's ear. "Then you know what you're dealing with," he whispered. "And you know that you belong to me now."