Warily approaching the bed, I scanned the room but found no laptop, computer, or printer. The chamber was sparse—just the heavy four-poster bed with its velvet drapes swaying faintly in the draft, a mahogany wine cart laden with decanters of deep red, and a single chair by the window, its upholstery worn from centuries of use. No technology, no signs of modern interference. My fingers twitched at my sides, restless. How on earth had he obtained that piece of paper?!
I racked my brain, turning the question over endlessly, but the answer eluded me. Then, noticing his unblinking gaze fixed on mine—those icy blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight through me—realization struck like a bolt of lightning. How could I have forgotten? This vampire, once the Blood King himself, possessed telepathy.
"You read my mind," I accused, my voice tight with suppressed fury.
