Ivy hesitated. “Um, no,” she said, the unusual sound of amusement in her voice. “You’re all right. You helped Rachel escape?”

“Yeah. Is she in the kitchen?” he questioned.

“Come on in.” Her eyes were rolling as she preceded him into the room. “He’s a geek,” she mouthed, and my face froze. A geek had saved my life?

“Uh, hi,” he said, standing awkwardly just inside the doorway.

“Hi,” I said, too disconcerted to say more as I ran my gaze over him. Calling him a geek wasn’t fair, but compared to what Ivy was used to dating, he might be.

Baron was as tall as Ivy, but his build was so sparse he seemed taller. The pale arms showing past Ivy’s black robe had the occasional faint scar, presumably from prior rat fights. His cheeks were clean-shaven—I’d have to get a new razor; the one I’d borrowed from Ivy was probably ruined. The rims of his ears were notched. Two puncture marks on either side of his neck stood out red and sore looking. They matched mine, and I felt a flush of embarrassment.

Despite, or maybe because of, his narrow frame he looked nice, kind of bookish. His dark hair was long, and the way he kept brushing it from his eyes led me to think he usually kept it shorter. The robe made him look soft and comfortable, but the way the black silk stretched across his lean muscles kept my eyes roving. Ivy was being overly critical. He had too many muscles to be a geek.

“You have red hair,” he said, shifting into motion. “I thought it would be brown.”

“I thought you were—ah—shorter.” I stood up as he approached, and after an awkward moment, he extended his hand across the corner of the table. Okay, so he wasn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger. But he had saved my life. Maybe somewhere between a short, young Jeff Goldblum and untidy Buckaroo Banzai.

“My name is Nick,” he said as he took my hand. “Well, it’s Nicholas, actually. Thanks for helping me get out of that rat pit.”

“I’m Rachel.” He had a nice grip. Just the right amount of firmness without trying to prove how strong he was. I motioned to one of the kitchen chairs, and we both sat. “And don’t mention it. We kind of helped each other out. You can tell me it’s none of my business, but how on earth did you end up as a rat in the city fights?”

Nick rubbed a thin hand behind an ear and looked at the ceiling. “I—uh—was cataloging a vamp’s private book collection. I found something interesting and made the mistake of taking it home.” He met my eyes with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t going to keep it.”

Ivy and I exchanged looks. Just borrowing it. Ri-i-i-i-ight. But if he had worked with vampires before, that might explain his ease around Ivy.

“He changed me into a rat when he found out,” Nick continued, “then gave me to one of his business associates as a gift. He was the one who put me in the fights, knowing as a human, I’d have the smarts advantage. I made him a lot of money, if nothing else. How about you?” he asked. “How did you get there?