“I won’t let you jump me,” I said, his shoulder cutting into my lungs and making it hard to breathe.

He slowed as we entered the restaurant, seeming to enjoy the music and high spirits. “To the ever-after? Why would I want to go there when we have the sun here?” he said, adjusting my weight to make my breath huff out. “There must be a boat somewhere in a sea of salt. I’m going to pick you apart, find out how much of a pain in the ass a natural-spawned demon is going to be to raise properly, or if I’d be better off destroying you all in the womb, so to speak.”

Oh, that didn’t sound good. “I’m not a demon,” I said, jamming my elbow into his back, wondering if I grabbed a knife off a passing tray and hit his kidney hard enough, he might drop me. The blood was pooling in my head, hurting.

“I’ve tasted you,” Ku’Sox said softly. “You’re like me, only natural born. With a mother and a father.”

Even over the noise, I could detect his jealousy. And why was no one saying anything? Maybe men toting women out of the back was normal here. I hit his back harder, and he tightened his grip.

“You might be strong enough to give me pain,” he said, heading for the door. “You might not be. I want to know before more of you show up.”

“Let me go, you freak!” I shouted, feet kicking as we started to pass tables, but everyone thought it was part of the show and only clapped. Where is Trent? Washing his hands?

“I’m not a freak,” he hissed, pinching my middle until I gasped in pain.

Extending my arms to his back, I pushed myself up, looking wildly for Ivy. Jenks. Hell, even Vivian would be a help. Orienting myself, I sent my gaze to our table. “Pierce!” I shouted, and the man turned from where he’d been watching the two vamps in the corner. Beside him, Vivian’s eyes widened. “A little help here, maybe?” Jeez, did I have to sing it for them?

Pierce stood, his face ashen. “Rachel!” he called, cutting through the music and catching everyone’s attention. Without missing a beat, the band shifted to “Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong” and the crowd exploded into cheers. I could understand their confusion. Ku’Sox looked like an especially attractive billionaire, rescuing his woman of the week from a lifetime of minimum wage.

Tight over my head came a clatter of pixy wings, and I looked up to get a face full of pixy dust. “Jenks, get Ivy!” I shouted between coughs, the image of a pixy and a bird flashing through my mind—terrifying me more than Ku’Sox carrying me away. My head dropped as I wiped my eyes, and I glimpsed Trent at the top of the kitchen corridor. Focus blurry, I felt more than saw Ivy at the front of the restaurant in a puddle of light by the register, hands on her hips and looking svelte and refreshed.