Page 70 of Caller of Crows

There was nothing Sven could do about it, though. Nothing he could do about any of it.

He tried the door, but naturally, it was locked.

Taking a step back, he blew out a breath, surprised to find that he was disappointed. In a corner of his mind, he'd thought that the previous night might have changed things between him and Altair, but obviously, it had not.

Sven was still a prisoner here, and what was worse, he'd let himself be caught for a second time, willingly.

He'd been blinded by his grief.

But the vampire had seemed so different last night. So understanding, so caring. More man than monster.

Sven felt ridiculous for thinking that when rationally, he knew Altair had probably only done what he'd done because it was easier to keep Sven if Sven cooperated. The vampire was cunning and intelligent. Of course he would give Sven what he wanted when it was clear that getting it meant more compliance on Sven's end.

With a shake of his head, Sven made his way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He had to arrange a funeral for his mother, didn't he?

How was he going to do that if he was stuck here?

Altair had allowed him to go to the hospital. Would he allow Sven to attend his mother's funeral as well?

Sven's fingers dug into the leather of the couch.

He shouldn't need permission for these things.

The door to the room opened and Altair strode in. Sven's gaze snapped to him—and to the blood on his dark clothes. "Shit, are you hurt?" Sven blurted, jumping up from the couch.

Altair glanced down at himself, then shook his head. "This blood did not come from my veins." Even as he said that, though, he looked tired in a way that didn't fit Sven's image of him.

Sven stared at the splotches on the vampire's jacket, then met his eyes once again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Altair shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of one of the chairs at the table. "It's nothing for you to worry about. A minor altercation with another coven. I'd hoped the noise wouldn't wake you."

Sven hadn't heard any noise, at least not that he could recall. He might have been too distracted by his thoughts, though. It was difficult to say if he would have noticed fighting if it had gone on right beside him. All he'd been able to focus on was his mother's death… and Altair's absence.

"You had a reason to leave the room." He spoke the words as the realization came to him, and then he immediately felt stupid for saying anything at all.

Altair shook his head. "Someone saw us at the hospital."

Sven tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "So?"

"A lot of vampires are very interested in taking what's mine and making it theirs." Altair's eyes flashed. "I can't have that." He paused, meeting Sven's gaze. "I won't."

Sven swallowed.

Something in the vampire's tone made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end. There was danger in Altair's voice, but this time, Sven knew it wasn't directed at him. This vampire wasn't dangerous to him but to anyone who tried to take Sven away from him.

Because Sven's blood was valuable, or because Altair viewed him as his property… or was there another reason?

"Does this mean I'll be stuck in this room for an eternity?" Sven asked softly, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the vampire. Whatever was happening, he couldn't let himself forget that Altair was treating him like a prisoner.

Altair took a step toward him. "Where else would you rather be?"

Sven glanced at the blood on Altair's clothes. He should want to be anywhere but here, really, if he was in his right mind. Altair's world was violent and dark, and while the vampire had helped him last night, he had not exactly treated Sven like an equal.

And yet.

Sven bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm his mind.