I chuckled. "Aw, it wasn't just me; I had help bringing him in. And don't thank me yet," I said, not sure if he was serious or not. "Piscary and I have an old argument, and I simply haven't decided if it's worth the effort to kill him or not."

Kisten laughed, but it sounded somewhat forced. "All right, all right," he said as he pulled my hand from Steve's. "That's enough. Steve, will you have someone get my long leather coat from downstairs? We're leaving as soon as I open the floor."

"Yes, sir."

I couldn't hide my smile as Kisten moved his grip to my elbow and subtly guided me to the stairway. I decided that though he kept touching me, it wasn't for any ulterior motive—yet—and I could tolerate him moving me around like a Barbie doll. It kinda went with my sophisticated look tonight and made me feel special.

"Good God, Rachel." His whisper in my ear made me shiver. "Don't you think you have enough of a badass attitude already without dumping blood on the floor?"

Steve was already gossiping to the help, and heads were turning to watch Kisten escort me to the second floor. "What?" I said, smiling confidently at anyone who would meet my eyes. I looked good. I felt good. Everyone could tell.

Kisten pulled me close to put his hand at the small of my back. "Do you really think it was a good idea to tell Steve that Piscary lives only because you haven't decided if you want to kill him or not? What kind of an image do you think that gives you?"

I smiled at him. I felt good. Relaxed. Like I had been sipping wine all afternoon. It had to be the vamp pheromones, but my demon scar had yet to even twinge. This was something else. Apparently there was nothing more relaxed and comfortable than a sated vampire, and they apparently liked to share the feeling. How come Ivy never felt like this? "Well, I did say I had help," I admitted, wondering if my words were slurring. "But killing Piscary is gonna move to the top of my wish list if he ever gets out of prison."

Kisten said nothing, peering at me with his brow furrowed, and I wondered if I had said something bad. But he had given me Egyptian embalming fluid that night, thinking it would knock Piscary out. He had said he wanted me to kill him. Maybe he'd changed his mind?

The music coming from the second floor grew louder the higher we rose up the stairway. It was a steady dance beat, and as it thumped into me, I found myself wanting to move to it. I could feel my blood humming, and I swayed as Kisten pulled me to a halt at the top of the stairs.

It was warmer up there, and I fanned myself. The huge plate-glass windows that had once overlooked the Ohio River had been replaced with walls, unlike the openings remaining downstairs. The dining tables had been removed to leave a building-wide, high-ceilinged open space ringed with tall cocktail tables pressed against the walls. There were no chairs. At the far end was a long bar. Again no chairs. Everyone was standing.

Above the bar just below the ceiling was a dark loft where the DJ and light-show panel was. Behind that was what looked like a pool table. A harried-looking tall man was standing in the center of the dance floor with a cordless mike, pleading to the mixed crowd of vampires: living and dead, men and women, all dressed similar to what I had been wearing earlier. It was a vamp dance club, I decided, wanting to cover my ears against the loud catcalls.

The man with the mike caught sight of Kisten, and his long face lifted in relief. "Kisten!" he said, his miked utterance turning heads and causing a cheer from the surrounding women in skimpy party dresses. "Thank God!"

The man beckoned to him, and Kisten took my shoulders. "Rachel?" he questioned. "Rachel!" he exclaimed, pulling my attention from the pretty spinning lights above the floor. His blue eyes went worried. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, my head bobbing up and down. "Yup, yup, yup," I said, giggling. I felt so warm and relaxed. I liked Kisten's dance club.

Kisten's brow furrowed. He glanced at the overdressed man everyone was laughing at, then back to me. "Rachel, this will only take a moment. Is that okay?"

I was watching the lights again, and he turned my chin to look at him. "Yes," I said, moving my mouth slowly so it would come out right. "I'll wait right here. You go open the floor." Someone bumped me, and I almost fell into him. "I like your club, Kisten. It's fab."

Kisten stood me upright, waiting until I had my balance before letting go. The crowd had started to chant his name, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment. They redoubled their calls, and I put my hands over my ears. The music pounded into me.

Kisten gestured to someone at the bottom of the stairs, and I watched Steve take them two at a time, moving his hulking size like it was nothing. "Is she what I think she is?" Kisten asked the big man as he came close.

"Ye-e-e-e-ah," the big man drawled as they both peered at me. "She's blood-sugared. But she's a witch." Steve's eyes left me and fixed on Kisten. "Isn't she?"

"Yes," Kisten said, almost having to shout over the noise from the people for him to take the mike. "She's been bitten, but she's not bound to anyone. Maybe that's why."

"Vampy, vampy pher…uh…pher—" I licked my lips, frowning. "Pheromones," I said, my eyes wide. "Mmmm, nice. How come Ivy never feels like this?"

"Because Ivy is a tightass." Kisten frowned. A sigh shifted him, and I reached for his shoulders. He had nice shoulders, all hard with muscle and possibility.

Kisten took my hands from him and held them before me. "Steve, stay with her."

"Sure, boss," the big vampire said, moving to stand beside and slightly behind me.

"Thanks." Kisten peered into my eyes, holding them. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he said. "This isn't your fault. I didn't know this would happen. I'll be right back."

He shifted away, and I reached out after him, blinking at the tumult that rose as he took the center of the room. Kisten stood for a moment, looking sexy in his Italian suit as he gathered his thoughts with his head bowed and waited. He was working the crowd before he even said a word; I couldn't help but be impressed. A closed-lipped, roguish smile quirked his mouth when he pulled his head up, eyeing them from under his blond bangs. "Holy shit," he whispered into the mike, and the crowd cheered. "What the hell are you all doing here?"

"Waiting for you!" a female voice shouted.

Kisten grinned, moving his body suggestively as he nodded in the direction of the voice. "Hey, Mandy. You here tonight? When did they let you out?"

She screamed happily at him, and he smiled. "You are a ba-a-a-a-ad bunch of vixens, you know that? Giving Mickey a hard time. What's wrong with Mickey? He's good to you."

The women cheered, and I covered my ears, almost falling over as my balance shifted. Steve took my elbow.

"Well, I was trying to go out on a date," Kisten said, dropping his head dramatically. "My first one in I don't know how long. You see her, over there by the stair?"

A huge spotlight slammed into me, and I winced, squinting. The heat from it made my skin tingle, and I straightened, almost falling when I waved. Steve caught my arm, and I smiled up at him. I leaned into him, and he shook his head good-naturedly, running a finger along the underside of my jaw before gently standing me upright.

"She's a little out of it tonight," Kisten said. "You are all enjoying yourself far too much, and it's rubbing off on her. Who knew witch runners needed to party like us?"

The noise redoubled, and the pace of the lights quickened, racing over the floor and up the walls and ceilings. My breath came faster as the beat of the music grew.

"But you know what they say," Kisten said over the rhythm. "The bigger they are—"

"The better it is," someone yelled.

"The more they need to party!" Kisten shouted over the laughs. "So take it easy on her, okay? She just wants to relax and have some fun. No pretenses. No games. I say any witch with enough balls to bring down Piscary and let him live has long enough fangs to party with. Are you all A-positive with that?"