“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But it seems to center on a naked eldritch dude with a huge schlong.”

Stefan frowned. “Could you identify him?” I shook my head. The eldritch always recognize one another, but we can’t necessarily put a name with that recognition. “I’ll have to see him for myself.”

“No ravening, right?” Cody interrupted him. “We don’t want to make the situation worse.”

Stefan’s gaze shifted to him. Without a word, he took in Cody’s disheveled hair and ripped-open uniform shirt. “No. No ravening, Officer.”

Ravening was what happened when a ghoul lost control. As far as I could tell, that never happened to Stefan.

“You vouch for your men?” Cody pressed.

Stefan hesitated. “Under ordinary circumstances, yes. But if you succumbed to the creature’s spell, we are also vulnerable.” His pupils waxed. “We do have ordinary mortal desires, too. How were you able to break free?”

“Dauda-dagr’s touch,” I said, showing him the blade. “But don’t ask me why.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Death’s touch offsets the drive toward life. Perhaps you and I should investigate alone, Daisy. If we can contain the source, my men can assist with the others.”

His men stood silent behind him in the parking lot, pupils glittering. I recognized one of them, his loyal lieutenant Rafe. The others were either vaguely familiar or new to me, including a blond-haired boy who didn’t look older than seventeen. But among the eldritch, looks could be deceiving. For all I knew, he was centuries older than me.

“Hel’s liaison?” Stefan inquired courteously in his faint, unplaceable accent, inclining his head in my direction.

I took a deep breath, suddenly acutely aware that beneath the thin cotton of my tank top my nipples were still jutting and hard, and I could feel the thumping techno beat pulsing between my thighs. Nonetheless, I had a job to do.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

Three

Inside the bar, Stefan’s hand squeezed mine atop the dagger’s hilt as the funk hit us. Glancing at him, I saw his pupils zoom large, practically eclipsing his irises before dwindling to normal size.

No doubt. Dauda-dagr’s touch might mitigate the effect of the pheromones, but the waves of lust rolling off a hundred people making major sexy-time had to be pretty damn potent.

“You okay?” I asked him.

He nodded, his lips set in a hard line. “Where is he?”

I pointed with my free hand. “Dance floor.”