Then, things had fallen apart with Seth and me. My world had been torn apart, and I found myself with an empty soul and bitter self-loathing of my own. Seth had inspired me to believe in better things in the world, but all that hope had disappeared with our love. Dante’s bleak, cynical outlook seemed more realistic now and more in line with my own worldview. He and I had hooked up, eerily compatible in our mutual despair. I didn’t love him, but I liked him.

I poured us glasses of Grey Goose once we were inside. I preferred gimlets but didn’t feel like going to the trouble of finding my lime juice. We settled on my couch with our drinks and cigarettes, and I finished up the story of my Canadian misadventures.

“Wow,” he said when I was done. “All that because you fucked your therapist?” Unlike Seth, who hadn’t liked knowing details about my succubus sex life, Dante took it all in stride.

I shrugged. “Well, I had nothing to do with the vampire gang war last night. But yeah, the rest is on me, I guess. You think they’re related?”

He swirled his vodka around. “If you don’t think Cedric did it, then probably not. The vampire thing is likely a coincidence. But that Portland demon was right. You probably are being played.” There was almost a growl to his words, uncharacteristically protective.

I groaned. “But how? Everyone keeps saying that, yet I only got involved twenty-four hours ago. How am I being manipulated in some huge affair in so short a time?”

“Because you’ve walked into something that’s been going on for a while. It’s not built around you per se, but now you’re in it.”

I leaned back against the couch and stared bleakly at the ceiling. “I should have never slept with Dr. Davies.”

“Was he good?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Nah. Just trying to figure out what turns you on.”

“Scathing wit, if present company’s any indication.”

“Somehow, I’m not convinced that’s the allure. Besides, are you saying you’re turned on right now?”

I was still staring at the ceiling. There were some fine cracks in the paint I hadn’t noticed before. “Do you think I should move?”

“What, closer to me?”

“No, as in out. Into a new place.”

“What’s wrong with this one? You have a great place. At least you don’t live where you work.” Dante’s bedroom was attached to his store.

I leaned forward and looked at him with a smile. “I might as well live where I work. I don’t know. I feel like it’s time for a change.”

His gray eyes were thoughtful as he regarded me. “You’ve told me about this—how you get an itch for change and suddenly end up transforming your identity and moving to a different country.”

Reaching out, I gently brushed some of his black hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. “I’ve only been here for fifteen years. It’s way too soon to leave.”