KYLE

Azazel Mortar was one of the larger vampires I had ever seen in my life. He had long black hair and a neatly shaved beard. His red eyes were darker than Grayson’s or the girl’s had been, boring into my soul, telling me he was a powerful pureblood.

I felt stupid.

How could I not? All the warning signs had been there just waiting for me to notice them.

They couldn’t have been clearer if they were biting me in the ass.

Grayson wasn’t Grayson at all—well, it was his body, but it wasn’t him controlling it.

It had been Azazel this whole time. Azazel laughed as he stretched...