He knew that if not for him, they'd be down the hill with the rest of the vampires called to investigate the incident at their borders. They’d be trying to work out what had attacked the three students, doing something useful.

He was just fine. He'd messed up, but no one had been hurt—because of him, anyway. People had warned him it might happen.

Bash refused to let himself crumble. He'd get better. It would get easier. If Luke had gone through this, there was no reason why he wouldn't.

He told himself that over and over. Eventually, it would stick, and start to sound true when he repeated it out loud.

His head snapped up moments before Catherine walked through the doors of Levi's mansion and then headed right to the study, where the small gathering took turns pacing about the room.

"How is she?" Chloe was the first to ask.

“She'll make it.”

Thank God.

Bash knew he wasn’t responsible for what had happened tonight, but if the girl had died from her wounds, her last memory would have been bleeding out on the ground with him towering over her, smirking like a goddamned monster. He couldn’t bear the thought.

She was fine. She’d live, and he could apologize.

Shit. How fucking self-centered was that? Bash had become such a pathetic creature.

“Greer and Alexius were incredible,” Catherine added. “She would have been doomed if not for them.”

To Bash's surprise, the vamp princess lowered her gaze to his. "And for you, too," she added.

Bash frowned. "Me?"

She almost smiled. Almost. Suddenly, Bash was glad Catherine scowled, because her expression lightening up just a little bit was enough to make his heart miss one beat.

Shit, it was unfair how fucking gorgeous that woman was.

"You startled the demon. Whatever it was, it wasn't in the mood to face a vamp, so it left before ripping her up like it did to her friends. I thought you'd like to know."

He certainly hadn't expected that, nor did he know what to make of it. So, what, his wanting to eat the girl was a good thing, now?

"Thanks," he said nonetheless, because as nonsensical as the notion seemed, he was glad to hear that he'd helped, though it had been entirely involuntary.

"Not just for telling me about her. Thanks for stopping me. If I'd killed her…" Words failed him.

Bash doubted he would have been able to recover from that, no matter what his well-meaning friends said.

"If you'd killed her, it would have been an understandable accident." Luke was firm. "And incidents like that might happen again. You have to come to terms with it."

"Why would he?" Cat questioned.

All eyes turned to her. She shrugged, unapologetic.

"Why would he come to terms with the fact that he failed? Why should he be fine with murdering innocents when it's preventable?"

Catherine wasn't one to speak unless she was obliged to. He didn't think he'd heard her say more than a couple of sentences at any time, in the six months since he'd first seen her. She was all about dismissive glances before getting on with what she was doing. But now that she was talking, her opinion seemed very much in character.

A spoiled, egocentric princess who would accept nothing short of excellence and held everyone else to her standard.

Bash laughed. Chloe and Luke watched him like he'd sprouted a second head, and he realized he probably hadn't laughed in a long time.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" He meant to offend her, but she didn’t even bat an eyelash.

"Why, does it sound too much like the truth? I'm not going to baby you and tell you you're fine. You're not. You're a fucking mess. Admit it, then work through it. Simple."

Not one little bit of empathy, sympathy, pity.

And Bash didn’t dislike it. Maybe because he’d turned into some kind of masochist. Or just because he was so very tired of being treated like a porcelain doll.

"Anyway, I'm not here to discuss Sebastian's woes, entertaining as they may be. Levi has called a conclave. Everyone will be here within the hour."

Luke cursed under his breath, pulling out his phone as he walked out of the study. Bash heard him give catering instructions to the person on the other end of the phone in a tone that sounded a little too much like panic.

"What's a conclave?" Chloe asked, just when Bash was about to.

"A meeting. Back in the day, it meant a meeting of the seven families on the hill, but since the Eirikrsons were destroyed—"

"Most of them," Chloe piped in cheerfully.

"Well, yes. Since then, there hasn't been much cause for one. Few vampires live on the hill. Levi, Bash—"

"I live in the dorm."

Catherine snorted, like she knew his bedroom was collecting dust. He spent most of his time in this very study.

It wasn't his fault he couldn't sleep. Or didn't trust himself in the dorm, next to other students.

Moments ago, he would have felt just fine telling himself that. But Catherine's earlier remonstrance made him question it.

Sure, it wasn't his fault. But did that mean he was powerless in the matter?

"Anyway, Levi, Bash, Alexius Helsing, and Anika Beaufort are the only residents on the hill. But Levi includes every vampire of Oldcrest in his conclave—me, and the others in the dorm. He's even called the huntsmen to join us this time. It's big."

That explained why Luke was panicking about petit fours. Crisis or not, the De Villier house was known for its flawless reception.

"Right, I think we’d better move to one of the fancy halls, then," Chloe said confidently, leading the way out of the study and behind the grand staircase to a great open space with a high crystal ceiling. The chairs and tables, set up in groups of two or three, were covered with white sheets.

"Give me a hand," she told them, removing the first cover to reveal a dark cayenne loveseat.

Bash started to work on the armchairs across the room while Catherine found a broom and swept the floor. Humans might have taken hours, but speed was the best advantage of their new forms. They had the place sorted in no time.

The red and silver-gray formal hall uncannily resembled just about every throne room Bash had ever seen.

Most of the time, it was easy to think of Levi as a mentor, a friend of sorts. Not in this place. Here, what he was became only too clear.

Royalty.

"Ah. It's certainly been some time since I've entered the hall," Levi said, entering the hall with his hands in his pockets.

Chloe shrugged. "I thought we'd have more space here for your conclave thing."

"Good call, mate,” Levi replied. “And glad to see you're making yourself at home."

She snorted. “I’m still not moving in.”

"Of course not. That would be far too practical."

The man had a point. When they’d first started dating, Chloe had stayed at the dorm most nights, although she often ended up on the hill right after her classes were over, chilling with Bash in Levi’s study. As the weeks passed, she’d started to spend half of her nights here. Now, three months in, Bash didn’t think she spent more than a night per week in her dorm room.

Which was better than him. Since he’d moved his stuff from his old room near the rest of the huntsmen to the right wing, where the freaks slept, he hadn’t been back at all. Levi didn’t seem to mind that he’d claimed his sofa. A chest of drawers where he could keep his clothes had magically appeared, along with a toothbrush for the adjacent bathroom.

“All right," said Luke, stepping in right behind Levi. "The kitchens are bringing refreshments up, and we'll have to open the cellar for wine." He glared at his boss. "You should give me more notice if you want to spare the good stuff. As for the blood, we should have quite enough, but we'll need to place another order of synthetic for—" He cleared his throat. "Our guests."

By that he meant Bash, who was draining their stock.

The older vampire didn't need much blood, a glass every other day; Luke had told Bash that Levi could go an entire week without a drop, quite comfortably. But the newer vampires drank considerably more—perhaps two, three bags a day.

Bash was at ten bags. On good days.

Still, that beat the alternative: taking a bite out of someone.

"Thank you, Luke. Efficient as usual."

"I'll remind you at the end of the year so you can give me a pay raise."

Bash's shoulders stiffened. His attention was pulled away from the easy banter and redirected toward the entrance of the hall.

A minute later, Jack Hunter stepped inside.

Bash's closest friend. Or, at least, he used to be. They hadn't talked in three months. Not once.

Jack abhorred vampires. And unlike everyone else, Bash knew why.

Scent of Blood

Seven years ago

* * *

Bash usually partnered up with Bat on his missions, but tonight, Jack Hunter had asked for him.

Though he was also twenty-one, Jack had already earned all seven stars any huntsman could get, tattooed on his skin with spells and ink. Endurance, courage, knowledge, loyalty, power, empathy, and the elusive one few huntsmen ever achieved: magic.

Bash only had two. Endurance and empathy.

Given his prowess and current position as one of the minds running the London headquarters, Jack could, and usually did, choose to go on solo missions. When he wanted a partner, he usually chose his cousin, Tris—though Jack called her Blade to get on her nerves.

But Jack had requested both Blade and Bash today. For the very first time, he'd asked for extra backup.

Bash didn't need to wonder why. He'd seen the details of Jack’s plan; without someone securing an escape route, it was nothing short of a suicide mission. Any other agent would have called a dozen guys for help, but Jack was just that good. Blade would accompany him into the belly of the beast while Bash secured the exit.

A vampire was picking up drunk girls outside of clubs in the middle of the night, and they were never seen again. Jack's preliminary investigation had located him in a den he intended to raid.