The tremor in my hands had progressed to my arms by the second morning.

I stood in my laboratory, staring at a beaker I'd been holding for the past three minutes, watching the clear liquid inside ripple in concentric circles. Tiny waves of my own destruction, beautiful and damning.

Marcus was still asleep in my quarters, warm and sated and blissfully unaware that I was falling apart.

Three days until the Conclave. Seventy-two hours to figure out how to present my research without revealing that it was killing me, that the miracle cure I'd spent two centuries developing had a fatal flaw that turned salvation into slow suicide.

I set the beaker down carefully. Watched my hand continue to shake even without the weight.

The door to my laboratory opened.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The scent hit me first—expensive cologne and tobacco, stone crypts and dried roses. Ancient and familiar and utterly unwelcome.

"Viktor."

"Elara." His voice was silk over steel. "You look well."

I turned to face him, keeping my traitorous hands behind my back. "You're early. The Conclave isn't for three days."

"I wanted to see you before the formalities began." He moved into my laboratory with the easy authority of someone who'd never been denied entrance anywhere. Five centuries of existence had given him that confidence, that absolute certainty in his right to occupy any space he chose.

He looked exactly as he had the night he turned me. Imposing and aristocratic, silver-streaked black hair immaculately styled, tailored suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. Beautiful in the way marble statues were beautiful—cold and perfect and utterly lifeless.

"How thoughtful," I said flatly. "You can see yourself out the same way you came in."

"Such hostility." He smiled, revealing teeth that were just slightly too white, too perfect. "After two hundred years, you'd think you'd have learned some manners."

"After two hundred years, you'd think you'd have learned to respect boundaries."

"Boundaries." He tasted the word like wine. "Is that what you're calling it? This little rebellion of yours?"

I felt the familiar weight of his presence pressing against my mind—not quite compulsion, but the constant awareness of our bond. Sire and progeny. Creator and created. The chain I'd been trying to break for two centuries.

"My research isn't a rebellion, Viktor. It's science."

"It's heresy." He moved closer, and I forced myself not to step back. "Trying to make us into something we're not. Denying our nature."

"Our nature is predatory and parasitic. Forgive me for trying to improve on it."

"Improve?" His laugh was soft and dangerous. "You're deteriorating, Elara. I can feel it through our bond. Whatever you're doing, it's destroying you."

My hands clenched behind my back. Of course he could feel it. The sire bond went both ways—not equally, never equally, but enough that he'd notice if I was weakening.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying." He was close enough now that I could see the ancient hunger in his eyes. "And you're trembling."

I brought my hands forward, held them steady through sheer force of will. "Caffeine. I've been working long hours."

"Vampires don't react to caffeine." He caught one of my wrists, his grip gentle but immovable. "And they certainly don't develop tremors from overwork."

I yanked my hand back. "Don't touch me."

"Still so much fire." Something flickered in his expression—possessiveness, pride, hunger. "Even when you're falling apart."

"What do you want, Viktor?"

"To talk." He glanced toward the door that led to my private quarters. "Is your pet here?"

Every protective instinct I had flared to life. "Marcus is none of your concern."

"Marcus." He said the name like it was something distasteful. "The dying human you've been using as a blood bag. I'd say he's very much my concern if he's influencing your decisions."

"He's not—"

"Isn't he?" Viktor moved past me, toward my research notes spread across the lab bench. "Two hundred years of perfect discipline, and suddenly you're taking human lovers and poisoning yourself with experimental serums. What else would explain such irrationality?"

I stepped between him and my notes. "My research has nothing to do with Marcus."

"No?" He studied me with those cold, ancient eyes. "Then why is his scent all over you? Why can I smell his blood in your veins, his sweat on your skin?"

Heat crawled up my neck. "That's none of your business."

"Everything about you is my business. I made you, Elara. You're mine."

"I was never yours."

"You begged me to turn you." His voice went soft, deadly. "You came to me during the plague, desperate and dying, and you begged for immortality. Have you forgotten?"

I hadn't. God help me, I'd never forgotten that moment of weakness, that terrible choice that had damned me for eternity.

"I was grieving," I said. "I watched my entire family die, and I thought—"

"You thought immortality would give you time to save the world." He smiled. "So idealistic. So beautifully naive."

"And you took advantage of that."

"I gave you exactly what you asked for." He moved closer again, and this time I did step back. "Eternal life. Strength. Power. Everything you needed to pursue your precious research."

"You gave me a curse."

"I gave you a gift you're too stubborn to appreciate." His hand came up, not touching but close enough that I could feel the cold radiating from his skin. "But I'm a patient man, Elara. I've waited two hundred years for you to come to your senses. I can wait a bit longer."

"I'm not coming back to your estate."

"No?" Something shifted in his expression. "Not even to save your pet's life?"

My blood went cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Marcus Reid. Thirty-eight years old. Stage four pancreatic cancer. Terminal diagnosis eighteen months ago." Viktor's smile was razor-sharp. "Did you really think I wouldn't research the human you've been feeding from?"

"If you touch him—"

"I'm not going to touch him." He leaned against my lab bench, utterly relaxed. "I'm going to offer him a gift."

Dread coiled in my stomach. "Viktor—"

"Immortality," he said simply. "I'll turn him. Make him vampire. Give him the eternal life he's been borrowing from your serum."

The world tilted sideways.

"No."

"Why not?" Viktor spread his hands. "It solves all your problems. He lives. You stop poisoning yourself with his blood. Everyone wins."

"Except Marcus would be vampire. A predator. Everything he—"

"Everything he what? Despises?" Viktor's eyes gleamed. "You think he loves you despite what you are, Elara? Or because of it?"

"That's not—"

"He's dying. Desperate. Willing to try anything, believe anything, if it means a few more months of life." Viktor pushed off the bench, prowling closer. "Do you really think he'd turn down immortality if I offered it?"

Yes, I wanted to say. Marcus would never choose this existence, this curse.

But I wasn't sure. And that uncertainty was a knife between my ribs.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Ah. Now we're negotiating." Viktor smiled. "I want you to abandon this daywalker research. Destroy your notes. Return to my estate where you belong."

"Never."

"Not even for him?"

"He wouldn't want—"

"Let's ask him." Viktor turned toward my quarters. "Marcus! Join us, please."

"He's sleeping," I said quickly. "And you can't just—"

"Can't I?"

Something pulled tight in my chest. A hook lodged behind my sternum, yanking hard.

No.

Not this.

Not in front of Marcus.

The bond flared to life, searing and absolute. Viktor's will crashing into mine like a tsunami, drowning every thought except the overwhelming compulsion to obey.

Come to me.

My body moved without permission. One step. Another. Crossing the laboratory toward Viktor while my mind screamed in protest.

I tried to stop. Tried to dig my heels in, to resist, to do anything except walk straight into his arms like a puppet on strings.

But the sire bond was absolute.

I'd forgotten how absolute.

My hands were shaking violently now, and I couldn't tell if it was from the poison in my blood or the fury of being controlled. Of having my autonomy stripped away like it meant nothing.

Viktor caught me as I reached him, his hands on my shoulders, his smile triumphant.

"There she is," he murmured. "My beautiful progeny."

I wanted to spit in his face. Wanted to tear his throat out with my teeth.

I stood perfectly still instead, trapped in my own body.

"Let me go," I managed through gritted teeth.

"In a moment." He tilted his head, studying me. "I wanted to remind you of something first. You can run from me, Elara. You can hide in your laboratory and play scientist and pretend you're something other than what you are. But you will always be mine. Always."

The door to my quarters opened.

Marcus stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and nothing else, his hair sleep-mussed and his eyes still heavy. He looked rumpled and warm and beautifully, devastatingly human.

His gaze went from me to Viktor. To Viktor's hands on my shoulders. To the way I stood frozen, trembling, unable to move.

"Elara?"

"Ah, the pet awakens." Viktor didn't let me go. "Marcus Reid, I presume?"

Marcus's expression went carefully blank. I'd seen that look before—the war correspondent's mask, the face he wore when documenting atrocities. Calm and controlled and taking in every detail.

"And you are?"

"Viktor Casimir. Elara's sire." Viktor's smile was all teeth. "We were just discussing your future."

"Let her go." Marcus's voice was quiet, but there was steel underneath.

"Or what?" Viktor laughed. "You'll defend her? A dying human against a vampire five centuries old?"

"Let. Her. Go."

Something in Marcus's tone made Viktor pause. Not fear—Marcus had stared down death too many times to fear it now. But absolute certainty. The kind of conviction that came from having nothing left to lose.

Viktor released me.

I stumbled back, gasping like I'd been underwater. The compulsion released all at once, leaving me shaking and furious and humiliated.

Marcus crossed the laboratory in three strides. Put himself between me and Viktor without hesitation.

"Elara, are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. Couldn't admit what had just happened, that Viktor had controlled me so completely, so effortlessly. That after two hundred years of fighting for autonomy, I was still just a puppet on his strings.

"She's fine," Viktor said. "Just a small demonstration of our bond. Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Demonstration." Marcus's hands clenched. "You mean you forced her to—"

"I summoned her. As is my right as her sire." Viktor straightened his cuffs, utterly unperturbed. "The bond between creator and progeny is absolute, Mr. Reid. Something you should understand before you continue this... dalliance."

"Dalliance." Marcus's laugh was harsh. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I think you're a dying man grasping at straws." Viktor's gaze was cold. "And Elara is too kindhearted to tell you the truth."

"Which is?"

"That she's poisoning herself to keep you alive. That your blood is toxic to her system. That if she continues feeding from you, she'll deteriorate into mindless hunger before she dies." Viktor smiled. "Did she tell you that part? Or did she let you believe this was sustainable?"

Marcus turned to look at me. His green eyes searched my face, and I saw the moment he registered the truth. The tremor in my hands. The pallor of my skin. The weakness I'd been hiding.

"Elara?"

"It's complicated," I managed.

"It's simple," Viktor corrected. "She's dying. You're dying. And I'm offering you both a way out."

"I don't want your way out," I said.

"No?" Viktor's attention shifted to Marcus. "What about you, Mr. Reid? Would you like to live? Truly live, not just borrow a few extra months?"

"Don't listen to him," I said quickly.

But Marcus was listening. I could see it in his expression—the desperate hope he was trying so hard to suppress.

"What are you offering?" Marcus asked.

"Immortality. I'll turn you vampire. Your cancer will die with your humanity, and you'll have eternity instead of months." Viktor spread his hands. "All I ask in return is that you convince Elara to abandon this research and return home where she belongs."

"Return to you, you mean."

"Yes."

Marcus looked at Viktor for a long moment. Then at me. At my shaking hands and the fear I couldn't quite hide.

"No," he said finally.

Viktor's expression didn't change. "No?"

"I'm not interested in your deal."

"You'd rather die?"

"I'd rather die human than live as your leverage." Marcus's voice was steady. "And I sure as hell won't be used to control Elara."

Something fierce and painful bloomed in my chest. Pride. Gratitude. Love so overwhelming it hurt.

Viktor studied Marcus like he was a particularly interesting specimen. "How noble. And how temporary." He turned back to me. "You have until the Conclave, Elara. Three days to reconsider. After that, the council will make the decision for you."

"The council has no authority over my research."

"The council has authority over everything that affects our kind. And your daywalker serum affects us all." He moved toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. When you present your research, they'll want proof. They'll want to see you in sunlight, to witness the miracle you've created."

"I know."

"And they'll notice." His gaze dropped to my trembling hands. "They'll see what I see. The weakness. The deterioration. And they'll ask questions you won't want to answer."

He was right. God damn him, he was right.

"Three days," Viktor repeated. "Think carefully about what you're willing to sacrifice. Both of you."

He left, the door closing behind him with a soft click that sounded like a death knell.

The silence he left behind was suffocating.

Marcus turned to me slowly. "How long have you known?"

"That his blood was toxic?" I couldn't meet his eyes. "A few weeks."

"And you didn't tell me."

"I was trying to fix it. I thought if I could just—"

"You thought you could solve everything alone." His voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse. "Like always."

"Marcus—"

"He controlled you." Marcus's jaw tightened. "With just his voice, he made you walk to him. Made you stand there while he touched you."

The humiliation was a living thing, crawling under my skin. "The sire bond is—"

"Absolute. I heard." He ran a hand through his hair, and I saw the tremor in his fingers. Not from illness this time. From rage. "How often does he do that?"

"Not often. I've learned to... shield myself. Usually."

"Usually." Marcus laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Jesus, Elara. How am I supposed to protect you from that?"

"You can't." The words tasted like ash. "That's the point. He wanted you to see how powerless you are. How powerless we both are."

"Fuck that." Marcus closed the distance between us, his hands coming up to frame my face. "And fuck him."

His touch was warm. So warm it almost hurt.

"He's right about one thing," I said quietly. "I am poisoning myself. Your blood is destroying me, and I don't know how to stop it."

"Then we find another way."

"There is no other way. The serum requires continuous feeding from a compatible source, and you're the only one who—"

"Then we stop. Right now. No more feeding."

"The Conclave is in three days. I need to be strong enough to present my research, to walk in sunlight in front of the council. If I stop feeding now—"

"You'll what? Weaken faster?" Marcus's thumbs brushed my cheekbones. "You're already falling apart, Elara. I can see it."

"I can make it three more days."

"And after that?"

I didn't have an answer.

Marcus leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. "He offered to turn me."

"I know."

"Would it work? Would I stop being toxic if I was vampire?"

"Probably. Vampire blood doesn't have the same—" I stopped. "No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd be vampire, Marcus. A predator. Everything you hate."

"Everything you are, you mean."

The words hit like a slap. "Yes."

"And you think I hate you?"

"You should."

"Well, I don't." His hands tightened on my face. "I love you. Human, vampire, monster, scientist—all of it. Every broken, brilliant, impossible piece."

Tears burned behind my eyes. Vampires couldn't cry, but God, I wanted to.

"You can't love me enough to become this," I whispered. "I won't let you make that choice."

"It's not your choice to make."

"Yes, it is. Because I'm the one who'd have to watch you lose your humanity. Who'd have to see you kill for the first time, feel the guilt and self-loathing that comes after." I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "I've spent two hundred years hating what I am. I won't condemn you to the same fate."

"Even if it saves both our lives?"

"Especially then."

Marcus stared at me for a long moment. Then he kissed me, hard and desperate and tasting like goodbye.

When he pulled back, his eyes were bright. "Three days until the Conclave."

"Yes."

"Then we have three days to find another way." His smile was grim. "Because I'm not letting you die for me, Elara. And I'm sure as hell not letting Viktor win."

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe there was a solution we hadn't seen, a way out of this impossible situation.

But my hands were shaking, and Viktor's words echoed in my mind.

You will always be mine.

I looked at Marcus—beautiful, mortal, doomed Marcus—and felt something crack open in my chest.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours to save us both.

Or watch everything burn.