"I figured that out," he said wryly. He wasn't eating, and I looked up to see him with knife and fork in hand, watching me scrape the last of the strawberries out with my butter knife.

"What?" I said as I put the crock down. "You weren't going to have any more."

He carefully cut another square of waffle. "You've been in contact with Takata, then?"

I shrugged. "Ivy and I are working security at his concert next Friday." I wedged a small bite into my mouth and closed my eyes as I chewed. "This is really good." He didn't say anything, and my eyes opened. "Are you—ah—going?"

"No."

Turning back to my plate, I glanced at him from around my hair. "Good." I ate another bite. "The man is something else; when we talked, he was wearing orange pants. And he's got his hair out to here." I gestured, showing Trent. "But you probably know him. Personally."

Trent was still working on his waffle with the steady pace of a snail. "We met once."

Content, I slid all the strawberries off the remnants of my waffle and concentrated on them. "He picked me up off the street, gave me a ride, dumped me off on the expressway." I smiled. "At least he had someone bring my car along. Have you heard his early release?" Music. I could always keep the conversation going if it was about music. And Trent liked Takata. I knew that much about him.

" 'Red Ribbons'?" Trent asked, an odd intentness to his voice.

Nodding, I swallowed and pushed my plate away. There were no more strawberries, and I was full. "Have you heard it?" I asked, settling back in my chair with my coffee.

"I've heard it." Leaving a shallow wedge of waffle uneaten, Trent set his fork down and pushed it symbolically away. His hands went to his tea and he leaned back in his chair. I went to take a sip of coffee, freezing as I realized Trent had mirrored both my posture and my motion.

Oh, crap. He likes me. Mirroring motions was classic in the body language of attraction. Feeling as if I'd stumbled into somewhere I didn't want to go, I intentionally leaned forward and put the flat of my arm on the table, my fingers encircling my warm mug of coffee. I wouldn't play this game. I wouldn't!

" 'You're mine, yet wholly you,' " Trent said dryly, clearly oblivious to my thoughts. "The man has no sense of discretion. It's going to catch up with him someday."

Eyes distant and unaware, he put the flat of his arm on the table. My face went cold and I choked, but it wasn't because of what he had done. It was because of what he had said. "Holy crap!" I swore. "You're a vamp's scion!"

Trent's eyes jerked to mine. "Excuse me?"

"The lyrics!" I sputtered. "He didn't release those. It's on the vamp track only undead vampires and their scions can hear. Oh my God! You've been bitten!"

Lips pressed together, Trent picked up his fork and cut a triangle of waffle, using it to sop up the last of the syrup on his plate. "I'm not a vampire's scion. And I've never been bit."

My heart pounded and I stared. "Then how do you know them? I heard you. I heard you say them. Straight off the vamp track."

He arched his thin eyebrows at me. "How do you know about the vamp track?"

"Ivy."

Trent rose. Wiping his fingers clean, he tightened his robe and crossed the room to the casual living-room pit with the wall-sized TV and stereo. I watched him pluck a CD from atop a shelf and drop it into a player. While it spun up, he punched in a track and "Red Ribbons" came from hidden speakers. Though it was soft, I could feel the base line thumping into me.

Trent showed a tired acceptance as he turned with a set of wireless headphones. They were professional looking, the type that fit over your ears instead of resting on them. "Listen," he said, extending them to me. I drew back suspiciously, and he wedged them on my head.

My jaw dropped and my eyes flew to his. It was "Red Ribbons," but it wasn't the same song. It was incredibly rich, seeming to go right to my brain, skipping my ears. It echoed within me, swirling behind and through my thoughts. There were impossible highs, and rumbling lows that set my tongue tingling. It was the same song, but there was so much more.

I realized I was staring at my plate. What I had been missing was beautiful. Pulling in a breath of air, I drew my head up. Trent had sat again, watching. Stunned, I reached to touch the headphones, reassuring myself that they were really there. The vamp track was indescribable.

And then the woman started to sing. I looked at Trent, feeling panicked, it was so beautiful. He nodded with a Cheshire cat smile. Her voice was lyrical, both rough and tragic. It pulled emotion from me I wasn't aware I could feel. A deep painful regret. Unrequited need. "I didn't know," I whispered.

As I listened to the end, unable to take the headphones off, Trent took our plates to the kitchen. He came back with an insulated pot of tea, topping off his cup before sitting down. The track ended, leaving only silence. Numb, I slid the headphones off and set them by my coffee.

"I didn't know," I said again, thinking that my eyes must look haunted. "Ivy can hear all that? Why doesn't Takata release them sounding like that?"

Trent adjusted his position in his chair. "He does. But only the undead can hear it."

I touched the headphones. "But you—"

"I made them after finding out about the vamp track. I wasn't sure they would work with witches. I gather by your expression that they did?"

My head bobbed loosely. "Ley line magic?" I questioned.

A smile, almost shy, flickered over him. "I specialize in misdirection. Quen thinks it a waste of time, but you'd be surprised what a person will do for a pair of those."

I pulled my eyes from the headphones. "I can imagine."

Trent sipped his tea, leaning back in speculation. "You don't…want a pair, do you?"

I took a breath, frowning at the faint taunt in his voice. "Not for what you're asking, no." Setting my mug of coffee at arm's length, I stood. His earlier behavior of mimicking my motions was suddenly abundantly clear. He was an expert in manipulation. He had to know what signals he was sending. Most people didn't—at least consciously—and that he had tried to lay the groundwork to try to romance my help when money wouldn't buy it was contemptible.

"Thanks for dinner," I said. "It was fabulous."

Surprise brought Trent straight. "I'll tell Maggie you en joyed it," he said, his lips tightening. He'd made a mistake, and he knew it.

I wiped my hands off on my sweatshirt. "I'd appreciate that. I'll get my things."

"I'll tell Quen you're ready to go." His voice was flat.

Leaving him sitting at the table, I walked away. I caught a glimpse of him as I turned and went into Ellasbeth's rooms. He was touching the headphones, his posture unable to hide his annoyance. The bandage on his head and his bare feet made him look vulnerable and alone.

Stupid lonely man, I thought.

Stupid ignorant me for pitying him.