I smiled as the music ended, to leave a comfortable silence. The ticking of the clock above the sink became loud in the candlelit air. My eyes went to the hand jerking about the dial. It was creeping up on four in the morning, and I had nothing to do but sit and daydream about Kisten. He had left about three to handle the crowd at Piscary’s, leaving me warm, content, and happy.

We had spent the entire early evening together eating BLTs and junk food, ransacking Ivy’s and my music collection and then using her computer to burn a CD of our favorites. In retrospect, I think it had been the most enjoyable evening of my entire adult life as we laughed over each other’s memories and I realized I enjoyed sharing more than my body with him.

Every candle I owned was lit as insurance that I’d be able to pick the time I told Ivy about my new arrangement with Kisten, and their glow added to the peace instilled by the soft burble of potpourri over the stove and the slight lethargy from the pain amulet about my neck. The air smelled of ginger, popcorn, and brownies, and as I sat at Ivy’s table with my elbows to either side of me, I played with my amulets and wondered what Kisten was doing.

Much as I didn’t want to admit it, I really liked him, and that I could have gone from fear to dislike to attraction and interest in less than a year left me concerned and embarrassed. It wasn’t like me to overlook my healthy distrust of vampires because of a tight butt and a charming demeanor.

Living with a vampire might have something to do with it, I thought, dipping my hand into the nearby bowl of popcorn and eating a piece because it was there, rather than out of any need to satisfy hunger. I didn’t think my new attitude was because of my scar; I had liked Kisten before the sex, or there wouldn’t have been any—and he hadn’t played upon it to influence me, either.

Wiping my fingers free of the salt, I stared into nothing. I had been thinking of Kisten differently since he’d dressed me up and made me feel good. Maybe, I thought, picking out another kernel. Maybe I could find something with a vampire that I’d never been able to hold on to with a witch, war-lock, or human.

Chin in the cup of my palm, I sent my fingers lightly over the demon scar as I recalled his careful attention as he shampooed my hair and soaped my back, and how good it felt to be able to return the favor. He had let me hog the shower-head most of the time. That kind of stuff was important.