The surrounding vamps were casually shifting back. Samuel laughed, clearly wanting to push Kist as far as he could. “Kist is jealous,” he said to me with the sole intent to irritate him. “The most that ever happened when he and Piscary were going at it was a bar fight.” His full lips split into a nasty grin, and he glanced cockily at the surrounding vamps. “Don’t worry, old man,” he directed to Kist. “Piscary will get tired of her as soon as she dies, and you’ll be back on top—or bottom—or somewhere in between if you’re lucky. Maybe they’ll let you sit in and Ivy can teach you a thing or two.”

Kist’s fingers trembled. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, he moved. Too fast to follow, he crossed the circle, grabbed Samuel by the shirtfront, and shoved him up against a thick support post. The timber groaned, and I heard something snap in Samuel’s chest. The bigger man’s face showed a surprised shock, his eyes wide and his mouth open in pain he hadn’t had time to feel.

“Shut up,” Kist said softly. His jaw clenched and his eye twitched. Dropping him, Kist gave Samuel a shove, twisting his arm at an unnatural angle as the larger man fell to his knees. My breath caught at the audible pop of his shoulder dislocating.

Samuel’s eyes bulged. Mouth open in a silent scream, he knelt, his arm still bent behind him, since Kist had never let go of his wrist. Kist dropped it, and Samuel gasped for air.

I stood—unable to move—frightened at how fast it had been.

Kist was suddenly before to me, and I jerked. “Here’s your bag,” he said, handing it to me. I snatched it, and Kist gestured that I should go before him. An opening parted in the circle. The surrounding vamps looked properly cowed. No one had gone to help Samuel, and his ragged pants for air as he lay unmoving struck me to my core.

“Don’t touch me,” I said as I passed Kist. “And none of you had better mess with my things while I’m gone,” I added, shaking inside. My pace faltered as I took a last look at my charms and realized only about half of what I had brought was on the table.

Kist took my elbow and pulled me into motion. “Let me go,” I said, the memory of him dislocating Samuel’s arm keeping me from pulling away.

“Shut up,” he said, the tension in his voice giving me pause.

Mind whirling, I followed his not-so-subtle direction, weaving through the tables to pass through a set of swinging doors and into the kitchen. Behind us the wait staff went back to their work, the speculations flying as they ignored Samuel.