“Hesitations aren’t in my genetic makeup,” I answered tightly, fearless, even though I was sure by they Eli meant Seth and his friends. “As long as those effers have my brother, I’m in.”

Eli turned me around and pushed me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head. He appeared more . . . menacing with his black hair, pale skin, pierced brow, and darker looks. “If they ever caught a whiff of that blood running through your veins, you would not be able to stop them.” He cocked his head and studied me. “They would descend upon you like a pack of hyenas. Your brother’s strength and agility grows every day. Only, their stomachs aren’t prepared for human blood yet — and that’s what saved you the other night. They have the craving, the desire — but don’t know how to act on it.” He frowned. “Yet.”

“So teach me how to protect myself,” I said, sensations rippling through me as Eli crowded me against the brick wall of the shop. I knew then that my desires had become his. Knew it. They’d become powerful and all consuming, forcing the edges of the spacious tattoo parlor to slam in around me. “If I can’t beat them, or outrun them, teach me how to kill them.”

A look of disbelief crossed Eli’s features. “Would you be able to ram a dagger through your brother’s heart if he came after you?” he asked.

Sickening nausea crept up my throat at the thought of it, and I knew I’d die before ever turning on Seth. “No,” I said. I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “But the Arcoses I’d kill. No problem.”

Eli studied me for several seconds, and I waited as patiently as I could. Patience wasn’t exactly a trait I’d ever claimed, and the lack of it was now kicked into overdrive as Eli’s body hovered so close to mine, silent, powerful, exotic. Slowly, he pushed away from me.

“I’ll speak to my father,” he said. “And he’ll speak with Preacher.” Although he’d pushed away from me, he was still close, and I swallowed the desire to grab him by the collar of his already ripped shirt and yank his mouth down to mine. “There are ways for a mortal to kill a vampire, but they’re old ways — primitive, and not for the squeamish.” He dragged a knuckle over my jaw, and I regarded him as his gaze raked over me. “You squeamish, Poe?”

My body reacted without my brain’s permission; I jammed my knee sharply in Eli’s crotch. Although I didn’t get the same reaction I’d gotten dozens of times before with mortals, I was fascinated to watch as Eli’s eyes dilated just a hair, and he stifled the shallowest of gasps. Balls were balls, I guessed. Still, he stood over me, and a small, wicked smile lifted the corner of his mouth. I grinned back. “Not squeamish at all.”

He nodded. “Dirty street fighting will buy you minimal time with a vampire,” he said matter-of-factly. “More than anything, they’ll be intrigued. But it won’t stop them.”

I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. “So when you say primitive, you mean wooden-stake-through-the-heart primitive?”

His eyes never left mine. “No. That only works in Hollywood. In real life it’s silver, and it can’t just pierce the heart. It has to go all the way through it. Ultimately it’s best if ripped from the chest wall, driven with silver, and burned.”

I considered that. “Sounds wicked disgusting, but I could do it.”

Eli glanced away and gave an arrogant laugh — a totally mortal guy’s move, and it looked even sexier on a vampire. He glanced back at me, then out into the afterlight, and inclined his head. “Go get ready. We leave in an hour.”

“An hour? Why so early?” I asked. “We don’t just show up at the Panic Room at seven o’clock. We have time to kill.” I looked around. “Ever think about getting some ink?” I asked, and inspected him. I admit it. I’d wanted to ink him from the moment I’d laid eyes on him.

Blue eyes fastened to me, studied me intently for several moments. “Really? And why’s that?”

I scowled. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head.”

With a slight grin, Eli looked away and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” He picked up a design book and thumbed through the pages. “If I decide to do it, you’ll be the first to know. Now, come on.”

With narrowed eyes, I frowned. “Again — you’ve confused me with someone who takes orders.” I turned to go. “Besides. That’s way too early to hit the Panic Room. Learn some manners, Dupré.” Eli’s silence followed me to my bedroom, where I hastily kicked my clothes off and jumped into the shower. With steaming water pelting my back, I measured exactly what I was doing, and what was about to happen, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little apprehensive. Before, when I was heavy into partying and getting effed up, things just didn’t matter to me. I thought I was invincible, that nothing and no one could ever hurt me. I could kick ass and was proud of it. But I’d left that life. Now? I was about to dive headfirst right back into it. And the thought of seeing Seth involved in the dark stuff that happened in the back rooms of the clubs I used to hang out in? It made my stomach hurt.

The entire time I showered, I felt a presence, as though someone watched me, and thoughts of Eli crowded my mind. I peered through the clear glass doors of my shower, to the bathroom door I’d left cracked open, but didn’t see him. I didn’t like how drawn I was to Eli; he was deadly, like holding a gun to my temple with the trigger half cocked, hoping the odds would keep it from firing. He of course knew it, too. Although I’d asked him not to read my mind, he did it all the time. Actions I could mostly control; private thoughts I totally could not. So I was pretty sure he knew right now that I wanted him in the shower with me, slick, wet, and totally out of control. My better judgment kicked in, though, and I turned the shower off, wrapped a towel around my body, and climbed out. I couldn’t help one last thought: How long can we resist each other? Maybe Eli could take it longer than me; he was, after all, immortal. I wasn’t, and hadn’t nearly the amount of resistance or control he did.

I dried my hair and left it loose, pulling various strands into tiny black clips. I left my bangs down, and they hung just to my jaw. It was the underground we faced, so the makeup I applied was a little heavier than usual, with dark liner and purple shadow that sparkled when the lights hit. Ruby lipstick and rouge made my skin look paler than it actually was, but beneath the club’s black walls and strobe lights, it’d prove the perfect effect. I added a pair of black webbed earrings; a black lace choker with a silver cross hanging from its center; a metallic hot pink push-up swimsuit top barely covered by a skimpy leather vest that sat about two inches above my navel; my favorite pair of second-skin leather pants, which laced up the sides; and black six-inch spike-heel ankle boots completed my Panic Room attire. I added a few black leather finger cuffs studded with silver, and a spiked wrist cuff, and was ready to go. With a quick final inspection in the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom, I grabbed my small black leather backpack and left the room.

“Okay, ready,” I said as I stepped into the living room. Eli stood at the window facing River Street, and he turned to look at me.

Alluring blue eyes slowly took in my appearance, lingering at the swell of my pushed-up breasts and skintight-leather-clad legs. Slowly, he moved toward me, and I noticed then that with six-inch heels I looked him square in the eye. I held my ground as he perused every inch of my body. I won’t lie; I enjoyed it. It empowered me, because I knew I affected him, too. Good. I didn’t want to be the only one on freaking fire.

Finally, after a prolonged, silent inspection of me, Eli met my gaze, and I immediately saw raw male desire laced in those blue depths. “You,” he said slowly, evocatively, “are hot.”