The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)

by Richelle Mead

I worked hard to calm down, reassuring myself that the conversation was done, that Sonya and Dimitri weren’t going to interrogate me or forcibly drain my blood. I dared a peek at Adrian. He no longer looked angry, but there was still a fierceness there. It was almost… protective. A strange, warm feeling swirled in my chest, and for a brief moment, when I looked at him, I saw… safety. That wasn’t usually the first sentiment I had around him. I shot him what I hoped was a grateful look. He gave me a small nod in return. He knows, I realized. He knows how I feel about vampires. Of course, everyone knew. Alchemists made no secret about how we believed most vampires and dhampirs were dark creatures who had no business interacting with humans. Because I was with them so often, however, I didn’t think my cohort here in Palm Springs really understood how deeply that belief ran. They understood it in theory but didn’t really feel it. They had no reason to since they hardly ever saw any evidence of it in me. But Adrian understood.