EZRA
Her scent clings to me.
It follows me out of her office like smoke—warm, heady, laced with whatever perfume she wears.
I shut the door behind me and exhale slowly, careful not to do it too loud.
If I stay in there one second longer, I’ll forget myself.
And that never happens.
I tip the cup in my hand and down the last bit of the blood-brewed coffee. Thick, dark, and bitter on my tongue. A blend from the Carmine Arabica plantations, the kind of beans only cultivated in blood-fed soil. Vampires have been growing it for centuries. We call it Sanguara.
It's just enough to pass for normal and keep the skin from going pale. It dulls the thirst too.
But it doesn’t drown it.
Especially mine and my brothers’.
And for me, even worse when Thea Carlisle is involved.
I walk down the hal
