together like friends, although there was just a little stiffness between them if you knew what to look for. Jesse had on a black

leather dress, probably just to be sure that she thoroughly con-

trasted; her red hair was loose around her shoulders, like a coat of fire.

Claire sipped her punch again. “She looks pretty today.”

“Doesn’t she?” he said, and sighed. “Terrifyingly so.”

Up on the raised stage, Michael finished tuning his guitar and

pulled the mike close to say, “So, welcome to the afterparty,”

which made quite a few people laugh. “This is a song I wrote for

my wife. Feel free to get out there and dance.”

He started playing, and it was an aching, amazing song that

poured out of him, and Claire was so intent on the music, the pas-

sion of it, that she was surprised when Myrnin took the cup out of

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her hands, put it aside, and pulled her out onto the dance floor. He twirled her around in a rush, and then settled into an easy, effortless glide.

Myrnin could dance. Who could have predicted that?

Claire caught her breath on a laugh, and fell into the rhythm.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. She didn’t know where it came from,

but this close to him, it needed to be said.

“No, you won’t,” Myrnin said, and smiled at her. “Since I shall

expect you at your table in the laboratory at ten a.m. sharp next

Monday. Oh, and I’m to tell you that you will need to repeat some

credit hours at the university. Apparently, some problem with your

transcripts.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love class, Claire.

We both know better.”

Shane tapped Myrnin on the shoulder, and just for a second

the two of them stared at each other . . . and then Myrnin grace-

fully, flamboyantly, bowed himself out. “Let me just say this once,”

Shane said, as he slipped into place to whirl Claire away on the

dance floor. “No more flirting with the crazy.”

She kissed him, and even though they stopped dancing, even

though the world spun around them on its axis, even though things

would never be exactly right, and vampires would fall short of

their promises, and humans would be mean and spiteful and

murderous . . . even with real life looming all around them, for

that moment . . .

Everything was perfect.

“Mrs. Collins,” Shane whispered in her ear. “Let’s blow this

party and go home while we can have it to ourselves.” He was

right. Jenna was here, and Miranda was alongside her, looking

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sweet and pretty in a pink dress and getting invitations to dance

from high school boys. She’d never looked so happy. Or so alive.

Michael was onstage playing, while Oliver whirled Eve around the

dance floor in an impressive show of grace.