I tried not to stiffen, determined to go with the flow until I had a chance to talk to Ivy about just what we were going to do about this. Piscary couldn’t get out of prison; I’d never sleep again. My arms went about her in a loose generic hug, and I froze when the woman put her lips under my ear and breathed, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Adrenaline jolted through me as my demon scar flashed into waves of heat. Shocked, I shoved her away, collapsing to a defensive posture. The living vampire fell back, surprise making her long lashes and blue eyes look enormous. She caught her balance a good five feet away. Erica gasped, and Ivy was a black blur coming between us.

“Skimmer!” Ivy shouted, her voice almost panicked as she stood with her back to me.

My heart pounded and sweat broke out. The flaming promise on my neck hurt, it was so strong, and I put a hand to it, feeling betrayed and shocked.

“She’s my business partner!” Ivy exclaimed. “Not my blood partner!”

The slim woman stared at us, flashing into a red-faced embarrassment. “Oh God,” she stammered, hunching into a slightly submissive posture. “I’m sorry.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I am really, really sorry.” She looked at Ivy, who was slowly relaxing. “Ivy, I thought you’d taken a shadow. She smells like you. I was just being polite.” Skimmer’s gaze darted to me as I tried to slow my heartbeat. “You asked me to stay with you. I thought—God, I’m sorry. I thought she was your shadow. I didn’t know she was your…friend.”

“It’s all right,” I lied, forcing myself upright. I didn’t like the way she had said “friend.” It implied more than what we were. But I currently wasn’t up to trying to explain to Ivy’s old roommate that we weren’t sharing blood or a bed. Ivy wasn’t much help, standing with a deer-in-the-headlights look. And I had this weird feeling I was still missing something. God, how did I get to this place?

Erica was standing by the foot of the stairs, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Skimmer looked distressed as she tried to cover her error, smoothing her hands on her pants and touching her hair. She took a deep breath. Still flushed, she stiffly extended her hand in an obvious show of intent and stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” she said as she halted before me. “My name is Dorothy Claymor. You can call me that if you want to. I probably deserve it.”

I managed to dredge up a stilted smile. “Rachel Morgan,” I said, shaking her hand.

The woman froze, and I pulled away. She looked at Ivy, the pieces falling into place.

“The one who put Piscary in prison,” I added, just to be sure she knew where I stood.