I put my hand over my heart. “You wound me, Sage. In this fantasy, I give you credit for attending some top university, but you put me on the streets.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere. I start with classes. You start on the street. Eventually, I get my doctorate and you’re doing world‑famous gallery shows.”

I nodded, mollified. “Okay, I can roll with that. And then after that, I suppose it’s just a matter of time until we’re taking the kids to soccer practice.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Kids?”

“Relax, it’s years away. But can you imagine? Your brains, my charm, our collective good looks . . . then add in the usual physical abilities dhampirs get.” She looked more amused than appalled at the speculation, which was something I’d never thought I’d see. “It’s really not even fair to everyone else. Good thing you’re on birth control, since the world obviously isn’t ready for our perfect offspring.”

“Obviously,” she laughed.

Our gazes locked, and as usual, my mind jumped from birth control to the inevitable. This trip could be it, I realized. There was no Jill, and last night had proven we could have plenty of time together. From the way she went still as we stared at each other, I knew she was thinking exactly the same thing. Was she ready yet? That was still the big question, the one I’d wait on forever, if need be. It’d just be a lot easier waiting if she didn’t obviously want it so badly too.

“Holy shit! Ivashkov, is that you?”

A jarring voice startled me out of my daze. My stomach sank. Slowly, putting on that damned smile everyone expected from me, I turned toward the diner’s entrance. There he was, Wesley Drozdov, one of the most obnoxious people I knew. Worse, he had a couple other royal assholes in tow: Lars Zeklos and Brent Badica.

They used to be my drinking buddies.

They were obviously drunk now, judging from the way they staggered over to our table. The overpowering reek of alcohol radiating from them was another tip‑off. Wesley slapped me on the back, making my teeth rattle.

“When did you get back?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Just got back last night. Barely enough time,” I said.

“Are you kidding? You could’ve gone out with us! We’ve been partying for, like . . .” Brent turned to the others, probably because the math was too hard. “Six hours. This new club just opened, and then Monique Szelsky threw this crazy party we just closed out. Time for some power food now, and then we’re going to crash.”

It was then that they noticed I wasn’t alone. Lars straightened up and put on the pseudo‑responsible look he’d try to pull off if his parents came home early while he was throwing a party. “Hello.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lars.”

Sydney hesitated before taking it, less from fear of Moroi than disdain for drunken idiots. “Sydney Sage.”

The others crowded to shake her hand, and I knew that the icy “I’m tolerating you” Alchemist smile she sometimes faked when we were in public was completely real for them.

“I heard there might be humans here.” Brent peered at her cheek. “You’re one of those? Those Alch–Alchemists?” The Alchemists actually weren’t widely known to all Moroi.

“That’s right,” she said coolly.

“She’s here on top secret business for the queen. Or something.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me that kind of important stuff. They just asked me to be a tour guide. I think they’ll comp my food and drink, so hey, bonus.”

Wesley couldn’t take his eyes off Sydney. “We’re going out again after sunset. You want to come with us? Ivashkov’s not really showing you Moroi life unless you hit some parties. There are a couple good ones planned.”

Sydney was so stiff, she could’ve broken in half. “No thanks. I have to meet with the queen.”

“See?” I said. “I told you. These Alchemists are all business.”

Lars nudged me. “Well, I know you  aren’t. Why don’t you come out with us? There’s some girls, man, that if they knew you were back, they’d–” He bit off his words and shot an apologetic look at Sydney.

Just then, the cook called out that our order was ready. Sydney stood up so quickly, her chair nearly fell over. “I’ll get it.” She strode off without another word or glance. All three of the guys stared after her, making no attempt to hide their lascivious looks. Sydney and I had experienced many things in our relationship, but this was the first time I’d ever felt such consuming hostility toward other guys. I wanted to punch them all.

“Goddamn,” said Wesley. “I never knew an ass could look so hot in khakis.”

“How the hell  can you sit there so calmly?” Lars demanded of me.

I put my feet on an empty chair, clasping my hands behind my head. If they were restrained, maybe I wouldn’t try to choke anyone. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Lars shook his head. “God, we were just at the feeders, and there is nothing, nothing  like that there. They’re like week‑old leftovers compared with her. We never get anything that good.”

“Not a mark on her neck,” breathed Brent, eyes wide. “You know she’s never done it. Can you imagine what it’d be like, burying your teeth in that? Ambrosia, man. And you know she’d love it. Those prim and proper ones always do.”

I clenched my hands together so tightly that my nails practically pierced my skin. Even to jerks like these, sex with a human wasn’t a consideration. But drinking from one? A beautiful one who’d never been touched before? That was as mind‑blowing as sex to them, driving them into a frenzy with lust of a different kind.

“Hose yourself down,” I laughed. “Do you even know anything about Alchemists? She can barely stand being in the same room as us. You’d never get near her neck.”

Wesley leaned toward me. “Get her to go out with us later! The queen can’t keep her all night.”

I was pretty sure the nails digging into my palms were drawing blood now. “Did you even hear what I said? She’s out of our league.”

Brent’s lips were parted, showing his fangs as he watched Sydney turn around with her tray. “Not if we go dabbling.”

“You’re still drunk, man.” I managed the painful smile but couldn’t laugh this time.

“It’d be easy,” he hissed. “Tell her you’re going to take her on some cultural experience. I can score something for her, and we can each get a turn. God, I’d love to see her face when–”

“No,” I said.

Lars scowled. “You’ve gone soft, Ivashkov. You never minded dabbling before.”

But Sydney had reached us by then, and the three of them at least had the sense to shut up. “It’s getting late,” I said. “You better get your food and rest up for later.”

They took the hint and wandered off laughing and whispering toward the counter, but not before telling me to get in touch if I changed my mind. I took a deep breath to steady myself and be interested in my French toast so that Sydney wouldn’t pick up on my mood.

“Sorry,” I said. “Friends from another time.”

“What’s dabbling?” she asked.

I winced. So. She’d heard that last part. She obviously hadn’t heard the rest, or she wouldn’t be nearly so calm. I had to choose my next words very carefully. If I gave her a total lie, there could be trouble if she ever found out the truth. And yet, I couldn’t answer with full honesty either, so I opted for something that skirted the truth.

“It’s stupid.” I rolled my eyes and munched on my side of bacon to buy me more time. “Jerks like that think it’s hilarious to try to recruit new humans as feeders. They take a human out and talk a bunch of crap to try to win them over.”

She actually dropped her fork. “Are you serious?” She glanced over her shoulder and studied them in disbelief. “They . . . they wanted to talk me into being a feeder?” She was so shocked at the idea of her  being a feeder that she didn’t even think about the implications of them openly discussing vampires with outsiders. Feeders were usually recruited from the fringes of human society, often from those who were already addicted to something and had little promise in their lives. Living with the Moroi was an upgrade. Normal, active members of human society were never approached.