Saw his mouth form my name—“Merit?”—but heard nothing but the pounding of blood in my ears. I glanced up, vertigo racking me as perspective shifted, caught Balthasar’s intense glance. “What are you doing to me?” I demanded. Balthasar smiled venomously as the sound grew louder and faster, as if hornets buzzed through my head. “I am demonstrating what it means to be one of my vampires.” I became a marionette, pulled toward him as if gravity’s axis had shifted, sucking me sideways. I fought back—of course I fought back, tried to pinwheel my arms and legs to move. But the effort was useless. He dragged me stiffly forward, pulled me toward him by the sheer power of his will. Balthasar had called me. Balthasar, who stood smiling through hooded lids, had managed to draw me in despite my obvious reluctance, my palpable fear. This wasn’t supposed to work on me.
