Gunnar’s eyes glow a bright gold, the angles of his face sharper and more dramatic than before. His brows and cheekbones catch new light, and the tips of his partly extended fangs show between swollen lips. I’m staring, frightened and fascinated, and he turns away. “Sorry—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean … This happens sometimes, when I get … excited. Please, just, don’t be scared? I wouldn’t hurt you, I promise, I—”

“You can look at me,” I say, when I finally rediscover my voice. After a moment, he does, his eyes like embers in the darkness of the car. His face is still altered, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch it, just because it’s unfamiliar. “I’m not scared.”

“I don’t usually lose control like this,” he admits, a sheepish smile exploring the new limits of his facial structure. “Most people aren’t … Well, I try not to show mortals this face too often.”

“I understand.” The last time I saw a vampire this far into his transformation was at Sugar Mama’s—right after he’d bitten open a woman’s neck. But somehow I’m really not scared; I even kind of like that Gunnar is this … excited. And somehow it’s still beautiful, his exaggerated features finally cast in a way that makes sense. “I think I kind of like it.”

“You do? You mean … you would still kiss me? Like this?” Gunnar plants his hand down on the center console, and I note that his fingers have not yet started to turn into claws. That might be my red line.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” I let him come to me this time, half-certain I’m making a fatal misjudgment—but he fits his mouth to mine and kisses me with renewed hunger. He’s aggressive and athletic, the growling in his throat quickly starting to sound more like a leonine purr, and my tongue slips harmlessly against the points of his fangs.

I’ve never felt sexier in my entire life, and when he finally breaks away again, I swear I’m only two seconds from losing it. In my pants. Deliberately placing his hands on the steering wheel, Gunnar closes his eyes, quelling the brilliant golden light. His face is still changed, his eyeteeth longer and his brow bones even more arched. “Okay. Okay, I think now is a good time to stop.”

“You’re … hungry?” I’m breathless and tingling all over, but I still slide one hand into my coat pocket, searching for that crucifix.

Gunnar laughs a little. “I’ve got a lot of urges right now, and feeding is barely, like, number ten on the list. Don’t worry, I can resist them all, it’s just … not very fun.”