Like a school of fish, they swayed and moved together, feet thumping with the strength to shake the dust from the ceiling. Not a one made a mistake or misstep. I blinked as Kisten did a Michael Jackson to move to the front, looking indescribably alluring in his confidence and suave movements, following it up with a Staying Alive. The women behind him followed him exactly after the first gesture. I couldn’t tell if they had practiced or if their quicker reactions allowed them such a seamless improvisation. Blinking, I decided it didn’t matter.

Lost in the power and intensity, Kisten all but glowed, riding the combined agreement of the vampires behind him. Numb from an overload of pheromones, music, and lights, I felt myself go hazy. Every motion had a liquid grace, every gesture was precise and unhurried.

The noise beat at me, and as I watched them party with a wild abandonment, I realized that it stemmed from the chance to be as they wanted to be without fear of anyone reminding them that they were vampires and therefore had to be dark and depressed and carry a mysterious danger. And I felt privileged to be respected enough to see them as they wished they could be.

Swaying, I leaned into Steve while the base line beat my mind into a blessed numbness. My eyelids refused to stay open. A thunder of noise shook through me, then subsided to mutate into a faster beat of different music. Someone touched my arm, and my eyes opened.

“Rachel?”

It was Kisten, and I smiled, giddy. “You dance good,” I said. “Dance with me?”

He shook his head, glancing at the vampire who was holding me upright. “Help me get her outside. This is fucking weird.”

“Bad, bad mouth,” I slurred, my eyes closing again. “Watch your mouth.”

A giggle escaped me, and it turned into a delighted shriek when someone picked me up to carry me cradled in his arms. I shivered as the noise lessened, and my head thumped into someone’s chest. It was warm, and I snuggled closer. The thundering beat softened to casual conversation and the clatter of china. A heavy blanket covered me, and I made a sound of protest when someone opened a door and cold air hit me.

The music and laughter behind me subsided into an icy silence broken by twin steps crunching on grainy snow and the chiming of a car. “Do you want me to call someone?” I heard a man ask as an uncomfortably cold draft made me shiver.

“No. I think all she needs is some air. If she isn’t right by the time we get there, I’ll call Ivy.”

“Well, take it easy, boss,” the first voice said.