The most I can be is incurably honest.

“I thought about you often,” I tell him. The words are so pathetic, such a pale shadow of how I felt. I don’t know how to tell him that I was lost, that I ached inside, that his absence was a cavernous ravine in my life, that the longing was part of what drove me to Tom. But all of that gets swirled up on the way to my mouth and comes out as, “I missed you a lot.”

Jay opens the door and moves aside, holding it for me.

I can’t say what I feel, but I can’t let him suffer either. I have to distract him, to shake him out of this mood.

“I thought of something earlier.” I step inside, and he lets the door fall shut. “I’d like to try using my voice to help your glutton.”

“Like brainwashing him out of his gluttony?” Jay cocks an eyebrow.

“More like soothing him so you can reason with him.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot. Text Jordan about the song, and we can try your voice thing on Slagle before I start working. And we should test a few other things about your ability—how long it lasts, and how far you can physically move from your subject before your influence fails. Whether or not other sounds can break them out of your sway—that kind of thing.”

“You’re talking like a scientist.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s cute.” I smile tentatively at him. “I remember how excited you got every time Dad came up with an experiment for you to do together.”

A half smile curves his mouth. “I miss your dad.”

“You should come for dinner soon. What about this weekend? Tomorrow is Friday, right? What about tomorrow night?”

“I’m having another party tomorrow.”

My mouth falls open. “Jay. Seriously? So soon after George?”

“These parties aren’t impulsive, Daisy. Each one has been in the works for weeks, and people expect them now. Even if I announce that I’m not hosting a party this weekend, most of the guests either won’t get the memo or won’t pay attention, and they’ll show up anyway. Plus, you know these events give my people a chance to get the fresh blood they need without hurting anyone.”

“Something I still don’t quite agree with, I’ll have you know.”

“It’s not a perfect system. Would you rather they start biting people in the back alleys of Asheville? We don’t have handy little mind erasure or compulsion powers, you know.” His lip curls. “That’s the stuff of TV shows.”

“That would be so convenient though, right?” I sigh.

“Real life is much more dangerous and interesting,” he says softly. “Because it gave you, a girl fresh out of college, the power to control vampires like me.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingertips along my cheek. He’s adjusting, moving past his mood, fixing things between us. I reach up and curl my hand over his.

Tension quivers in that touch, and desire licks through me, quick and sharp. Here in the cool, shadowed foyer, there’s no one to see, no one to know what we do, no pool guys to interrupt us—

“Mr. Gatsby.” A plump middle-aged woman with bright black eyes stands on the landing of the stairs. One fist is propped on her hip, and the other hand holds a clump of Jay’s shirts. “Mr. Gatsby, what did you do to your room? Shirts everywhere! I know you can be messy, but this should not become a new habit. This is why I roll the shirts, so you can see what they are and make your choice without flinging them all over the room!”

“Sorry, Lillian.” He gives her a sheepish grin. “And I’ve told you to call me Jay.”

She shakes her head and waggles a finger at him. “Don’t you try that pretty-boy charm with me. Tell me this will not happen again.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Her eyes travel to me, and Jay draws me forward a step.

“Lillian, this is Daisy. Daisy Finnegan. The one I told you about.”

“Hi,” I add. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ah, Daisy!” Lillian’s face relaxes into a smile. “So glad to see the two of you together! Don’t let me keep you, Mr. Gatsby. I’ll do the shirts. You go and have fun!” She bustles upstairs again.

Giggling, I tip my forehead against Jay’s shoulder. “Should I have told her that the T-shirt thing was my fault?”

“We wouldn’t want to mess up your flawless first impression.” He nudges me playfully. “Come on, let’s find you a rabid vampire to play with.”

The glutton Slagle is crying when we enter the dungeon, but his sobs die out as we approach. When Jay opens the window in the cell door, Slagle’s mottled face is already there. Snot, tears, grime, and blood streak his skin, and his sweaty hair is stuck to his scalp.

“You really need a shower,” I say, wincing.

“Tell that to the sadistic monster who locked me in here,” Slagle hisses.

Jay raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m the sadistic monster? Okay. I guess it was me out behind the gardeners’ shed, gorging myself on the blood of two unconscious girls. And I guess it was also me who took an actual bite out of one of their thighs. Do you know what I had to do to make that go away, Slagle? Do you know how expensive plastic surgeons are?”

“That’s nothing to you,” says the glutton. “You can afford it. You can afford everything, including your pretty little escort there. How much do you pay her per hour? Must get expensive.”

Jay’s fangs flash out, and he crashes against the window, snarling a hideous threat. My heart jumps into my throat.

The glutton cringes away, whimpering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just so hungry, so thirsty. I’m dying in here, and you don’t care, so of course I lash out.”

“I could kill you, you know.” Jay speaks through the mouthful of fangs, drawing a single claw down the glass. “It would be so much easier than trying to rehabilitate you. I’m very tempted, in fact. But lucky for you, Daisy wants to test her mind control on a vampire, and you’re the perfect candidate.”

Jay turns to me, still vamped out, all claws and fangs and swirling white eyes. There’s a manic energy buzzing around him—the air practically crackles with it.

He takes in my expression and mutters, “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“I’m not a bit scared,” I murmur, my pulse kicking into a frantic pace as he steps closer. “And you’re going to think I’m sick, but…this aspect of you is actually super hot.”

He grins, and my heart flips.

“I don’t think you’re sick at all,” he whispers. With the tip of a claw, he touches my mouth, tugging my lower lip down just a little. A tingling heat spreads over my body, and my breaths turn quick and shallow.

“What do you mean, mind control?” whines the glutton. “What are you talking about? You’re both crazy.”

“That’s an offensive word, Slagle,” I say, with my eyes still locked on Jay. “You may want to cover your ears so this doesn’t affect you too, Jay.”

“I’m okay,” he says. “I want to see if you can control two of us at once. If it becomes an issue, you can order me to cover my ears.”

“All right then.” Carefully I shift into the lower register of my voice, the timbre that’s becoming more familiar each time I use it. “I want you both to calm down and breathe slowly. You’re at peace, and you’re content. You don’t need to drink blood or fight right now, so let the fangs slide away, and the claws slip back in, okay?” I keep my voice soft and musical, even as my excitement rises because the two of them are completely mesmerized, staring at me while their claws and fangs recede. They’re breathing slowly, heavily.

“Good job, boys,” I coo to them, while my mind races frantically for the next command, something to test the extent of my abilities. “Such a good job. Now I want you to, um, to pat your heads and your stomachs at the same time. Great job! Keep doing that, okay?”