The silver-eyed vampire slowly turned to face Blaze.
The moment her eyes met his, I felt the temperature in the room drop.
The werewolves had already retreated, their violent frenzy momentarily forgotten. A few of them still growled low in their throats, licking blood off their fangs, their eyes flickering between Blaze and the vampires.
But this wasn't their fight.
This was something else.
Something older.
Blaze's face was blank, but there was something in his eyes—something sharp and dangerous. A silent warning.
The silver-eyed vampire let out a soft chuckle, rising gracefully to her feet. "Yours?" she repeated, amusement lacing her tone. "Since when do you keep pets, Blaze?"
I stiffened. Pet. That was the second time I'd been called that.
Blaze didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked to me for half a second, and I swore his jaw ticked. But his voice was smooth when he finally spoke.
"Since it became necessary."
