“We did, sir,” the waiter protested, taking a step back as Kist pulled entirely away from me. “But they coerced Tarra into admitting there was some in the back, and she gave it to them.”

Kist’s annoyance turned into anger. “Who gave Tarra the upstairs? I told her to work the lower floor until that Were bite healed over.”

Kist worked at Piscary’s? Surprise, surprise. I hadn’t thought the vamp had the presence of mind to do anything useful.

“She convinced Samuel to let her up there, saying she’d get better tips,” the waiter said.

“Sam …” Kist said from between closed teeth. Emotion crossed him, the first hints of coherent thoughts that didn’t revolve around sex and blood surprising me. Full lips pressed together, he scanned the floor. “All right. Pull everyone as if for a birthday and get her out of there before she sets them off. Cut off the bane. Complimentary dessert for any who want it.”

Blond stubble catching the light, he glanced up as if able to see through the ceiling to the noise upstairs. The music was high again, and Jeff Beck filtered down. “Loser.” Somehow, it seemed to fit as they all slurred the lyrics together. The wealthier patrons in the lower floor didn’t seem to mind.

“Piscary will have my hide if we lose our A rating over a Were bite,” Kist said. “And as exciting as that might be, I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Kist’s easy admission of his relationship with Piscary took me aback, but it shouldn’t have. Though I always equated the giving and taking of blood with sex, it wasn’t, especially if the exchange was between a living and an undead vampire. The two held vastly different views, probably because one had a soul and the other didn’t.

The “bottle the blood came in” mattered to most living vamps. They picked their partners with care, usually—but not always—following their sexual gender preferences on the happy chance that sex might be included in the mix. Even when driven by hunger, the giving and taking of blood often fulfilled an emotional need, a physical affirmation of an emotional bond in much the same way that sex could—but didn’t always have to.

Undead vampires were even more meticulous, choosing their companions with the care of a serial killer. Seeking domination and emotional manipulation rather than commitment, gender didn’t enter into the equation—though the undead wouldn’t turn down the addition of sex, since it imparted an even more intense feeling of domination, akin to rape even with a willing partner. Any relationship that grew from such an arrangement was utterly one-sided, though the bitee usually didn’t accept it, thinking their master was the exception to the rule. It gave me pause that Kist seemed eager for another encounter with Piscary, and I wondered, as I glanced at the young vampire beside me, if it was because Kist received a large measure of strength and status by being his scion.