My eyes sprang open and I sat up, pulling air into my lungs.

There was no gentle stirring, no blurry vision and yawns as my body came awake. I wasn't even sleepy.

I simply sat up and restarted.

And that more than anything told me Bastien hadn't been lying. I wasn't a morning person and if I didn't get my naps throughout the day, I was a sheer terror. God help you if you tried to talk to me before I had coffee either.

But I had no urge to seek out coffee or even the need to pee.

I was up and alert.

There was one urge, though.

I was thirsty. It burned worse than yesterday because I knew what could quench this awful thirst. I craved it. I could smell it today.

Somewhere in this house there was blood.

Fresh blood.

Live blood.

And my nose sought it out without my even being aware of it. I found myself pressed up against the bars, my arms outstretched.

I heard hissing.

Then I realized it was me doing the hissing.

Closing my eyes, I heard the steady thump, thump, thump of the heartbeats above my head. They were up there walking around while I was here starving.

I needed to eat.

But I couldn't get out.

I listened to the sound of the force of the blood rushing through their veins and I called out to them, begged them to come to me, to help me.

The door opened and a boy of about sixteen came in. He had a flashlight in one hand and he looked around woodenly. I saw the vein pulsing along his neck, heard the rush of the blood, felt its heat and I reached for him.

Come, I thought. Come closer.

He took a few steps toward me and I smiled, nodding to him.

That's right, just a little closer.

His steps brought him to within touching distance.

"Kathryn, no!"

My fingers had just brushed the tips of his collar when a loud rush of wind hit him, rolling him backwards toward the door and I screamed in rage. No. He was mine!

Bastien shoved the boy out the door and turned to face me, a look of fear and pride mixing in his expression.

I didn't care.

I was hungry and he'd stolen my meal!

"Easy, Katheryn." He walked over to my cell and I grabbed for him, intent on hurting him, but he was just out of reach.

He smirked and I snarled, unable to form words to let him know how angry I was. The only thing that came out of my mouth were noises that sounded more animal than human.

"You shouldn't be awake for another hour yet."

That was my fault?

He shook his head and went through the room the woman disappeared through last night and when he returned, he carried three blood bags with him.

"If you want these, you'll back away from the bars."

I was still pressed so tight against the bars I would probably have a bruise later. The sight of the bags had me all torn up. I needed what was in those clear little plastic bags.

"Ah, uh," he chided. "Back away from the bars."

When I realized he wasn't going to come any further toward me, I ran to the back of the cell. The whistle of wind sounded and my hand snapped out, catching the bag midair and I crouched down, tearing into it with teeth that were so sharp, I barely had to let them graze the bag.

The blood was cold and thick, but I didn't care. I was too hungry. It made me a little crazed.

As soon as the blood hit my mouth, I felt everything in me start to settle. The nerves calmed, the rage died out and soon, I started to feel more like myself.

"Ready for another one?"

I nodded, still not trusting my voice. It whistled through the air and I caught it without even looking behind me. There was no deranged tearing through the plastic this time at least. The blood coated my mouth, slid down my throat and into my stomach.

I sighed and sat back, resting my head against the stone wall.

"Better?" Bastien asked.

"Yes."

"Now you understand why you're behind these bars."

I frowned and cocked my head thinking. What did he mean?

"The boy, Kathryn."

The boy...oh my God! I was trying to get to him, to his blood. I might have killed him. Dropping my head in my hands, I hunched in on myself, ashamed.

What was I becoming?

"It gets easier. By tomorrow you'll awake able to bear the hunger. You won't be tempting poor children down here to feed upon."

"I don't want this," I whispered. "Why did you do this to me? To Neely?"

"It wasn't my choice." He knelt in front of the bars so we were on eye level with each other. "I tried to get them to leave you alone, but they smelled the power on you from a good half mile away. If I hadn't taken you, they would have and your experience right now would be entirely different."

"So I'm supposed to be grateful to you? Neely is dead and I'm supposed to say thank you?"

"She should never have been turned. I was so busy trying to mask your scent of power, I didn't notice they had given her the blood drink. They knew as well as I did she wasn't strong enough. I had planned to put her in the blood mule van until I could find a way to get her out. She would have at least been alive."

"Why would they do that if they knew better?"

"Most of the vampires that are left are old. They needed fresh blood to keep them alive. They feed through us. They pull their life force from ours. In their haste to of self-preservation, they weren't too picky with the mortals they chose. Some of them are cruel. The group I was with last night were worse than most of those I deal with in New Orleans. They did it simply because they wanted to see her choke on her own blood."

I cringed at the picture he painted—my beautiful friend lying there on the ground drowning in her own blood as it came up.

"I hate you."

"I know." He tossed me the other blood bag. "Use your mug. I'd rinse it out first, though. Blood goes bad after it's left out too long and congealed blood will make you just as sick as food."

Remembering how violently I'd thrown up last night, I drug myself off the floor and found the mug. I washed my hands and my mouth out as well as the mug. Splashing water on my face, I reached to grab my shirt and noticed I'd gotten blood all over it. It must have gushed when I tore into the first bag.

God, I'd been more animal than human.

And I'm supposed to get better in a day?

I doubted it.

I was careful with the third bag of blood and didn't spill a single drop.

"Why would you try to help me when you gathered all the rest?"

"I'm a collector for my master. It's what I do. I find those who may bring his coven unique gifts and make it stronger. You, though. I'm not sure why I set out to save you. I felt this pull I can't explain, this need to protect you from everyone."

His lips weren't moving.

But I didn't think I'd spoken out loud more than once or twice either.

We were sitting here staring at each and having a conversation in our heads.

"I've never felt the urge to save any of them. I can't tell you why you're different. I only know that you are."

"You don't want them to know what we're talking about do you? Is that why you're talking to me in my head?"

"Yes. If they knew what we were discussing, they'd kill us both."

"Why?"

"It's treason. You belong to our master and it feels to me like you belong to me. That is a crime punishable by death."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"The others will be up soon. I must go make sure the blood shipment arrived so we'll have enough to feed them. The door will be locked with only a key I have. There will be no more unsuspecting children wandering down. When I return I'll bring you some actual food. Your stomach should be able to handle it."

"I can eat?"

He smiles. "A little. It takes three days for your body to fully acclimate to our blood and it needs nourishment while the process completes itself. Some food helps that along. You won't need to eat it unless you simply want to. It won't taste the same anymore. Nothing will taste good to you except the blood."

"Am I...am I dead?"

Bastien stood. "I know that when sleep pulls us under, it's as if our body turns to that of a corpse. Our heart stops beating. With the first shadows we rise very much like a corpse rises from the dead. Our heart restarts and we still have emotions. Perhaps for a little while we are truly dead. Perhaps whatever magic or curse now invades our bodies reanimates us to the living. I am not sure, Kathryn, of the answer to your question. None of us are. The ancient ones would know, but they do not tell us their secrets."

I sip my cold blood as he leaves and rest, more unsure of myself now than I was last night.

And with more questions than ever.