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That’s an understatement. “Even if I ask, very, very nicely?” I ask, in that warm, sweet voice that I used last night that kind of seemed to work on him in the cell.

His eyes do dilate a little, but then narrow. “A word of advice, ma petite sirène, not to try to use your powers on me. You have no control over them, and the attempt lets me know that you are trying to manipulate me, which is against our contract. Or have you forgotten?”

Crap. “Fine. Sorry. What do you want?”

“I want your blood. Again. Tonight.”

I want to balk. The blood feeding is . . . intimate. It felt right to do with a man that I was beginning to trust and flirt with, not with someone who has recently reminded me that he’s a madman. But blood feeding is part of both of our contracts. Besides, he said that I can’t die of blood loss, right? If he’s right about me being a siren, that is.

“Okay,” I grudgingly agree.

“And I want you to move in. Permanently.” He adds this as if it’s not a batshit crazy thing to say.

I rear back in alarm. “What? No! How did we escalate from one feed to moving into your crazy mansion permanently?”

“It only makes sense,” he says, his tone logical and dismissive. “This is the safest place in the city. A beautiful haven. Your place is a hovel with no windows. That’s a fire hazard, you know.”

Asshat. I know my place isn’t great, maybe even illegal, but it’s my place. Still, I get the feeling that he’s going to win this battle, so I should change tactics.

‘What will you give me?” I ask boldly. “I’m not generous either.”

He laughs again, more genuinely this time. He grins his white teeth at me. “Oh, Andi, you are not made to bargain, but I like watching you try. Very well, what do you want from me in return for the great sacrifice of leaving your hovel?”

I don’t know. I didn’t think this far and didn’t think he’d agree. Then I think of something and smile. “I want an untraceable bank account that only I can access, and every time you feed from me, I want to be paid 5,000 dollars into that account.” There. That way, if I ever have to run, I have a stash. People can’t disappear without money, after all.

“Done,” he says easily. Too easily. Damn. I must have underbid.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “I mean it, Julian. I want to be the only one who can access it. I don’t want you to be poking your nose into my business later.”

Julian raises his hands innocently. “On my honor, it will be yours and yours alone. I won’t be able to touch it.”

“Would you sign another magical contract to that effect?” I challenge.

He grins, looking dangerous. “Look at the little mouse, learning. Alright, I’ll have Zelda draw up another contract. All this paperwork isn’t cheap, you know.”

“Neither am I,” I retort. “You want me in your space, you pay for the pleasure.”

He steps forward, invading my space, and I forget how to breathe. He’s still very pretty up close. My nipples tighten. Seriously, still being attracted to him after everything means that I must be as crazy as him.

“You know, ma souris,” the crazy vampire says, “I like you like this. Bold and demanding, full of retorts. It makes me want to kiss your impertinent mouth.”

What? My brain short-circuits. I remember our last kiss, the teasing press of lips. But no, I can’t do that again. That would be insane to do the day after he locked me up. I must be getting Stockholm Syndrome, right? Because my stupid emotions are all for it, no matter how dangerous it feels

Logic wins in the end, though. “You should have thought of that before you threw me in a dungeon,” I tell him, more breathlessly than I would like.

He only smiles at me. “We’re going to be together for a very long time, ma souris. It would be wise not to hold grudges. I know that I don’t.”

“What would you have a grudge against me for?” I ask, puzzled. I’ve done nothing to him.

He quirks a brow. “You’ve enthralled me, remember? But I have decided to enjoy it. It is, at the very least, a new experience.”

I roll my eyes at the man. “I didn’t do that on purpose!”

“And I didn’t do this on purpose,” he says, and then he’s kissing me.

It’s more forceful this time, more than a teasing brush of lips. There’s passion and real desire there. I whimper into his mouth, and his tongue is there, tangling with mine. It’s a passionate dance of lips and tongues. Julian knows how to kiss. My knees go weak, and I feel myself get wet, but his arms are around me, holding me up. After thoroughly dazzling me with his kiss, he pulls back, that arrogant expression back on his face.

“That felt like it was on purpose,” I say, trying to sound accusatory, but I’m breathless again. Dammit.