In the sound of rustling wool, Kisten stepped back. His eyes found mine, and I realized my hands had risen and were about his waist. They fell from him reluctantly, and I swallowed hard, shocked. Though he hadn’t touched my lips or neck, it had been one of the most exhilarating kisses I’d ever experienced. The thrill of not knowing what he was going to do had put me in a tizzy that a full-mouthed kiss never could have.

“That’s the damnedest thing,” he said softly, a puzzled arch to his eyebrow.

“What?” I questioned breathily, still not having shaken off the feeling.

He shook his head. “I can’t smell you at all. It’s kind of a turn-on.”

I blinked, unable to say a word.

“ ’Night, Rachel.” A new smile hovered about him as he shifted another step back.

“Good night,” I whispered.

He turned and opened the door. The chill air shocked me out of my daze. My demon scar hadn’t made a single twinge, dormant. That, I thought, was frightening. That he could do this to me without even playing upon my scar. What in hell was wrong with me?

Kisten gave me a final smile from the landing, the snowy night a beautiful backdrop. Turning, he walked down the icy steps, his footsteps crunching on the salt.

Bewildered, I shut the door behind him, wondering what had happened. Still feeling unreal, I dropped the locking bar, then reopened it upon remembering Ivy was out.

Arms clasped about myself, I headed for my bedroom. My thoughts were full of what Kisten had told me about how people dictated their own fate when letting a vampire bind them. That people paid for the ecstasy of vampire passion with different levels of dependency ranging from food to equal. What if he was lying? I thought. Lying to trick me into letting him bind me to him? But then a more frightening thought pulled my feet to a halt and made my face go cold.

What if he was telling the truth?

Sixteen

Boots thumping in the hallway, I followed Ivy to the front door. Her tall frame moved with a preoccupied grace, predatorial as always in her tasteful leather pants. She might get away solstice shopping in leather, but I had opted for jeans and a red sweater. Even so, we both looked good. Shopping with Ivy was fun. She always treated for cookies, and dodging the offers for dates took on a delicious sense of danger, as she attracted all sorts of people.

“I’ve got to be back by eleven,” she said as we entered the sanctuary and she swung her long hair back. “I’ve got a run tonight. Someone’s underage daughter was lured into a bloodhouse, and I’m going in to get her out.”

“You want some help?” I asked, buttoning my coat and hitching my bag higher up my shoulder while I walked.