“This is where I am, Kisten,” she said. “I’m not touching her, and neither are you.”

My pulse pounded, and I heard in his heavy exhalation the sound of an old argument that had no answer. “Rachel’s worth fighting for,” he said softly. “If she asks me, I won’t say no.”

I closed my eyes, seeing where this was heading.

“And because you’re a man,” Ivy said bitterly, “she won’t have a problem when the blood turns to sex, will she.”

“Probably not.” It was confident, and my eyes opened.

“Damn you,” she whispered, sounding broken. “I hate you.”

Kisten was silent, and then I heard the soft sound of a kiss. “You love me.”

Mouth dry, I stood in the hallway, afraid to move in the silence the last sound track had left.

“Ivy?” Kisten coaxed. “I won’t lure her from you, but I won’t sit by and pretend I’m a stone either. Just talk to her. She knows where your feelings are, and she still has the room next to yours, not an apartment across the city. Maybe …”

My eyes closed in the swirl of conflicting feelings. The image of me sharing a room with Ivy flitted through my mind, shocking me. Of me slipping between those silken sheets and sliding up to her back, smelling her hair, feeling her turn over and seeing her easy smile four inches from mine. I knew how her eyes would be lidded and heavy with sleep, the soft sound of welcome she would make. What in hell was I doing?

“She’s rash,” Kisten said, “impulsive, and the most caring person I have ever met. She told me what happened, but she doesn’t think anything less of you, or herself, even when it went wrong.”

“Shut up,” Ivy whispered, pain and self-reproach in her voice.

“You opened the door,” he accused, making her come to grips with what we had done. “And if you don’t walk her through it, she’ll find someone who will. I don’t have to ask your permission. And unless you tell me right now that someday you’re going to try to find a blood balance with her, I will if she asks me.”

I shivered, jerking when a soft brush on my leg made me jump. It was Rex, but I was little more to her than something to brush up against as she headed to the living room, following the sound of Ivy’s distress.

“I can’t!” Ivy exclaimed, and I jumped. “Piscary …” She took a gasping breath. “Piscary will step in and he’ll make me hurt her, maybe kill her.”

“That’s an excuse,” he hammered on her. “The truth is that you’re scared.”