Amelia was so busy trying to forget about Mitchell that when Angelle spoke she flinched, having forgotten that she wasn’t alone. “Mabel, you really should go,” she urged. Angelle was sitting beside Amelia braiding her hair.

The older women looked at Amelia, her brow furrowed and arms crossed. She looked conflicted, Amelia thought, like she wanted to run from the house screaming but was bound by a duty to stay. “I’m not leaving her,” she said. “Amelia needs one of her own on her side through this.” One of her own? Amelia raised a questioning eyebrow, not sure what to say. “A human, Amelia. You need a human on your side.”

Angelle sighed—long and sad—she looked genuinely hurt. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She’s my sister.” She ran her fingers through Amelia’s hair, loosening the braid, and started again.

“Don’t call me your sister,” Amelia murmured. She wanted to move away from Angelle but she didn’t want to disturb Eric. “We’re not sisters. A sister wouldn’t betray me like you did. She wouldn’t stand by and watch me suffer. You let me believe that I was crazy. I told you everything and you let me continue to think that it was a dream. If you really cared about me, really thought of me like a sister, you would have told me the truth.”

Angelle’s hands stilled on her hair, and Amelia risked a glance at her. A small tear slid down Angelle’s cheek, leaving behind a thin, glistening trail. “I wanted to tell you. Please believe me. I really wanted to.”

Amelia didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to believe it and she didn’t want to accept that there was any excuse that would convince her, but she asked anyways. “Why didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You’ve got to give me something here,” Amelia pleaded. She looked back down at Eric’s lifeless form, ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheek. “Give me a reason to believe you.” Because, despite what her brain was saying, she really did want to believe Angelle.

Angelle stayed quiet for a moment, and the idea that she wasn’t going to explain stung. Amelia really wanted to believe that Angelle was her friend, that she had some kind of rationale for hiding Mitchell from her.

Another silent minute passed and Amelia glanced at her. As their eyes met, the words suddenly came out of Angelle in a rush. “Mitchell is the oldest. That makes him the strongest. I can’t fight him. None of us can. We wouldn’t stand a chance. But it’s more than that. He’s a good man, Amelia. He has done so much for me. For all of us. So when he asked me to wait to tell you, I did. I owe him my life and all he wanted was for you to get a chance to settle in, make some friends, get used to us before we told you. He thought it would make it easier for you.” When Angelle finished she went back to braiding Amelia’s hair distractedly. “If I thought for a second that you were in danger I would’ve stepped in.” She uttered the last words with such fervor that Amelia knew it was true.

“But you already let the worst happen, my dear,” Mabel said, reminding them she was still there. “Have you forgotten about Derek? About all the pain and heartbreak that was caused by your actions. The very same actions Mitchell has taken?”

“Who’s Derek?” Amelia asked.

Angelle ignored her, and suddenly the braid went from loose to pinching tight. She was just about to ask again, when Angelle hissed, “This is nothing like Derek, Mabel, and you know it. Amelia loves him. She doesn’t want to admit it yet but she does and he would do anything for her.”

“He’s letting the devil take control of him,” Mabel said. Amelia was thunderstruck. Sweet-tempered, motherly Mabel was glaring so hard at Angelle it made Amelia nearly cringe. Angelle’s braid was so tight now that it felt like her hair was being ripped out, and the lump on her head was not making it any easier to stay still, but her desire to know more made her resist the urge to jerk away. “He can’t be trusted with her,” Mabel continued. “Not yet. And she needs someone to look after her. Someone who will stand up to him, not cower behind a magazine while he’s choking her.”

“Does she look hurt to you?” Angelle shouted. “Are there any bruises on her neck? Your family has been with him for seven centuries and you have been with him for sixty-one years now. Has he ever threatened you? Or put himself before anyone human or vampire?”

“This is different,” Mabel said relentlessly. Amelia had never thought of Mabel as a stubborn woman before, but she was now. “Remember how you felt, Angelle. She doesn’t just hold his soul, she is his core. The connection between them is stronger than I have ever seen, even stronger than Luke and Lola. A connection like that can be dangerous. It plays with their minds. There is a fine line between love and hate and Mitchell is not used to anyone outright defying him. And our little Amelia is a strong one.” She looked over at Amelia, pride illuminating her round features. “The light shines bright in her. If she keeps fighting him, and I’m sure she will, he may lose control. All it takes is a second and they will both regret it.”

That’s when Eric stirred. The conversation between the women stopped abruptly as his neck straightened, snapping and popping, and his eyelids twitched. “Mabel, grab some blood,” Angelle ordered. She dropped Amelia’s hair and pushed her back. “Sorry sweetie, but he’s gonna be hungry and I don’t want him to make a mistake.”

Mabel tossed a bag of blood to Angelle and then pulled Amelia back further. Why? Amelia was sure that he wouldn’t hurt her. Not Eric. She watched with a mix of fascination and horror as Eric sprung back to life. One second, his eyelids were fluttering and the next he was on his feet, snarling savagely. Angelle held him easily with one hand; arms locked behind his back and held the bag of blood in front of him, dangling it like a T-bone in front of a dog. Like an animal, he tore into it, sucking and slurping. It was bloodcurdling and nauseating and if Amelia hadn’t been so petrified, she almost certainly would have lost her cookies.

Halfway through the bag Angelle released his arms while he continued to devour the thick, red liquid. His eyes slowly turned from fiery red back to their beautiful, vibrant green and his skin took on a light pink flush.

When he had sucked the bag bone-dry, Eric pitched it into the sink and rolled his neck. The room echoed with a pair of stomach-churning cracks, like the snap of celery sticks. “Dammit,” he said and rubbed his face. “I hate it when that happens. Where the hell is he?”

No one answered him, so Amelia searched the link—stunned at how normal it felt—to find Mitchell. “In my room,” she answered. Eric looked mad. She guessed he had a right to be; Mitchell had broken his neck but even though he was justified, she felt an insistent urge to defend Mitchell. “He’s with Luke. He’s sorry,” she stuttered, hoping that may help.

“Like hell he is!” Eric yelled at her. “He’s probably wishing I was dead. You probably wouldn’t care much either,” he spat at Amelia with so much hostility that she came close to bolting. She shuddered uncontrollably, mustering all her will to force herself to stay put and not reveal her fright.

“You know that’s not true, Eric.” Angelle put a hand on his shoulder. “Amelia sat here holding you the whole time. But you went too far with her. You know it. Seriously, what were you thinking getting in between them? Did you really think he was just going to let you stop him and walk away with her?”

“At least he tried to stop it,” Mabel snapped.

Angelle rolled her eyes and huffed. “He wasn’t going to hurt her,” she sounded exasperated and defeated.

“She wasn’t breathing,” Eric countered.

Amelia watched the three of them yell at each other. She knew it was tacky, but she smiled inwardly. This was all for her. They cared. All of them. They were at each other's throats about what they thought was best for her. Then it hit her; they were fighting about her and that just wasn’t okay. “Um, guys, I’m fine,” she said, a bit louder than she had hoped, and she felt her neck burn with a creeping blush. “I think Angelle’s right. I really don’t think Mitch wanted to hurt me.”

“Amelia you really need to take this seriously,” Mabel cautioned, giving a stern look. “Mitchell’s a vampire. He’s a killer and you are pushing him over the edge whether you mean to or not.”

As if he knew they were talking about him, Amelia felt Mitchell tune in. She knew right away, with an overwhelming surge of wildness, that Angelle was right. With the way things were going, it could get nasty between Mitchell and Mabel. “Mabel, thank you for your concern, it’s really touching but I’m fine and I need to deal with this on my own. I think you need to leave. Take some time off.”

“She’s right,” Eric said. “If Amelia hadn’t gotten in the way you might not have been so lucky.”

“He’s ashamed of the way he acted and I think he’s scared for you.” Amelia added because Mabel looked determined to stay. “He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you, Mabel.” She wondered if that was actually true and then quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting to consider that Mitchell could be so monstrous.

Luckily, Mabel didn’t notice her hesitation, and she visibly deflated. She bobbed her head in agreement. “You call me, dear. Call me every two hours. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come back.”

In no time, Amelia had Mabel safely in her car and when she drove away, Amelia felt as if a colossal burden had been lifted from her shoulders. One less person to worry about.

After some coaxing, Eric went to take a shower and get his head together. He wasn’t himself yet, not that Amelia blamed him. He had just, in a sense, died.

With Eric taken care of, Amelia made a cup of instant coffee and plopped down at the island. Too much was happening. Too many feelings. Too many changes. She couldn’t help but feel like she was getting the short end of the stick again. Someone else was choosing her path and she was powerless to change it.