“This is what my mother would want for me, you idiot.” I drop to my knees in front of him. “What are you even talking about?” He sneers at me, baring his teeth—all of them. His canines are as sharp as a wolf’s. “My mother died killing vampires,” he says. “And when they bit her, she killed herself. It’s the last thing she did. If she knew what I am . . . She would never have let me live.” “That’s not true,” I say. “She loved you. She called you her ‘rosebud boy.’ ” “She loved what I was!” he shouts. “I’m not that boy anymore. I’m one of them now.” “You’re not.” “Haven’t you been trying to prove
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