He makes a wry face, but nods. “Breakfast.”

I follow him through a doorway and down a hall. “Where’s Cody, by the way?”

“I’m not sure. He’s been going out a lot lately. Maybe he’s with Nick?”

“Probably. They’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen Cody quite this devoted before.”

“Nick’s a good guy,” I say. “And he’s family. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I can’t guarantee that.” Jay ushers me into the kitchen, a gleaming white-and-silver expanse of islands and counters and appliances. “Cody can be unpredictable. He’s been through a lot. Like I told you, he was turned by Wolfsheim, one of the first-generation vampires, and Cody served as his boy toy for a while. He was dependent on Wolfsheim for blood sources, for protection. Wolfsheim abused him in a lot of ways.”

“That’s horrible. Why does Cody still take calls from him?”

Jay pulls open the fridge. “He doesn’t.”

“Yes he does. I overheard Cody talking to him on the phone at the Met party.”

“You overhear a lot, don’t you?” The ghost of a smile curls the corner of his mouth, but his eyes darken with worry. “You’re sure it was Wolfsheim?”

“Yeah, that’s what Cody called him.” Briefly I outline what I heard of the conversation.

A muscle tics along Jay’s jaw. He sets a carton of eggs on the counter a little too hard. “He should have told me Wolfsheim called. He shouldn’t have to deal with that bastard alone. Wolfsheim is the most powerful of the First Gens. He believes in turning people the original way, slow and painful, to see who survives. It’s like a ritual, so that only the worthy become vampires.”

“Seems elitist.”

“It is. But the other First Gens follow Wolfsheim blindly. He’s been threatening Cody and me for months, demanding that we shut down our operation. For him, vampirism is like a religion. He and his people are fanatics, demanding that everyone fall in line with their rules.”

“I’ve never enjoyed people like that.” I take a pan from the rack over the island and place it on the stovetop. “Got butter?”

He tosses me a stick, and for a few minutes we focus on getting a nice scramble going, complete with chopped bacon, cheese, onions, and tomatoes. Then we perch on barstools and shovel all the warm deliciousness into our mouths.

“I could eat this forever,” I moan. “So good. By the way, what’s a glutton?”

Jay chokes on his food and has to guzzle half a glass of water before he can answer. “God, Daisy. How do you know that?”

“You and the Henry guy talked about it right in front of me. After our dance, remember?” When I lost it and crumpled on the floor in a mess of tears.

“Oh.” He seems relieved. “A glutton—well, a glutton is…” He tilts his head and examines me, as if he’s gauging my tolerance level. “I could tell you, or I could show you. If you think you can handle it.”

I swallow hard. “I’ve handled a lot already.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a tentative sort of maybe.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right there with you.” He stuffs the last bite of eggs into his mouth and jumps up. “Come on. Let’s visit the dungeon.”

“The dungeon?” I mumble through a mouthful of eggs. “You have a dungeon?”

“I bought this place from a guy who was really into bondage stuff. He built the dungeon, but I remodeled it.”

“So you had a sex dungeon. Tom would have loved that,” I sneer.

Tom tried to push me beyond the spanking thing when we were dating, but I resisted. No shame for people who like that stuff, but it wasn’t for me. It’s probably one of the reasons he decided to cheat. I get the feeling he really wants someone who’s a blend of me and Myrtle—my popularity and money, with Myrtle’s amenability to his every whim.

I collect my plate and carry it halfway to the sink before Jay says, “You can leave it. I have people who clean up around here.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “You should take your plate to the sink, too.”

He flashes me a sharp-toothed grin. “Make me.”

And then the smiles drop from both our faces, because we remember that I actually could make him do it.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Make me.”

There’s a now-familiar shift in my throat as I slip my voice into that special cadence. “Jay Gatsby, take your plate to the sink. And wash both plates—no, all the breakfast dishes—right now.”

I sit on a barstool at the island and watch while he mechanically collects and washes every pan, plate, and utensil we used. He even walks over and takes the half-full juice glass right out of my hand, empties it, and scrubs it down.

When he’s done, he just stands there, staring into space.

It’s fucking scary, seeing him like this. Knowing what I can do, what it means.

It means that I’m not quite human. I’m something else. There is more to the world than I ever knew, and I can either tumble into helpless pieces or suck it up and deal with the frightening, fascinating reality.

In a way, isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? A different future than the one society laid out for me? Something unique, something exciting? A gate swinging open to a path no one else can take?

From that perspective, I’m lucky. And I’m also fucked.

At least there’s someone in my life who doesn’t fear the power I possess. I’ll make sure he knows his trust in me is justified.

“Wake up, Jay,” I tell him.

And then he’s back. He stares at the pile of clean dishes on the counter. “Holy shit. I don’t remember doing any of that.”

“You even stole my juice glass before it was empty.” I pout.

A crease forms between Jay’s eyebrows. “Daisy…”

“I will never use this on you without your permission.”

His forehead smooths again. “And I will never drink from you without your consent.”

My heartbeat jolts into a quicker pattern. “Okay,” I breathe.

“I’ve scared you,” he says. “Your heart is beating really fast.”