Kisten’s coat was long, dragging while he held my arm and escorted me to the canopy covered entrance. “Everyone in there knows you beat Piscary into unconsciousness,” he said softly, inches from my ear to make me very aware of his breath on my cheek. “None of them would dare even think to do that. And you could have killed him but you didn’t. It takes more guts to let a vampire live than to kill one. No one will mess with you.” He opened the door, and light and music spilled out. “Or is it the blood you’re worried about?” he questioned as I balked.

I fixed my eyes on his and nodded, not caring if he saw my apprehension.

Expression distant, Kisten gently led me forward. “You won’t see any,” he said. “Everyone here came to relax, not feed the beast. This is the only place in Cincinnati where vampires can go in a public setting and be themselves without having to live up to some human’s, witch’s, or Were’s idea of what they should be and how they should act. There won’t be any blood unless someone cuts a finger opening a beer.”

Still unsure, I let him guide me in, stopping just inside the door while he knocked the snow from his dress shoes. The heat of the place struck me first, and I didn’t think it was all coming from the fireplace at the far end of the room. It had to be pushing eighty, the warmth carrying the pleasant aroma of incense and dark things. I breathed deeply as I untied Kisten’s coat, and it seemed to settle in my brain, relaxing me the way a hot bath and a good meal did.

A stirring of unease ruined the feeling when a living vamp came forward with an unsettling quickness. His shoulders looked as wide as I was tall, and he massed three hundred pounds if he was an ounce. But his eyes were sharp, revealing a quick intelligence, and he moved his muscular bulk with the sexy grace most living vamp’s had. “I’m sorry,” he said in an iron-pumping-gym accent as he came close. His hand was reaching out—not to touch but clearly indicating that I should leave. “Piscary’s lost its MPL. Vamps only.”

Kisten slid behind me and helped me slip his coat off. “Hi, Steve. Any trouble tonight?”

“Mr. Felps,” the large man exclaimed softly, his speech taking on a well-educated accent to match the intelligence his eyes couldn’t hide. “I wasn’t expecting you until later. No. No trouble apart from Mike upstairs. We’re all quiet down here.” Brown eyes apologetic, he glanced at me. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know you were with Mr. Felps.”

Seeing a golden opportunity to pry, I smiled. “Does Mr. Felps often bring young women not of the vampiric persuasion to his club?” I asked.