Gesturing it was okay, I stumbled down the dark hallway, following the smell of coffee. At least no one had seen me rolling on the floor evading pixy snowballs, I thought. But such commotions had become commonplace since the first hard frost and Jenks’s family moved in. There was no way I could pretend I wasn’t here now, though. Besides, they had probably smelled the flush of fresh air when I opened the door.

I passed the opposing his-and-her bathrooms that had been converted into a conventional bathroom and a combination bathroom/laundry room. The latter was mine. My room was on the right side of the hallway, Ivy’s was directly across from it. The kitchen was next, and I made a left turn into it, hoping to grab some coffee and go hide in my room to avoid Kisten entirely.

I had made the mistake of kissing him in an elevator, and he never missed an opportunity to remind me of it. Thinking at the time I wouldn’t live to see the sunrise, I had let my guard down and enjoyed myself, all but giving in to the lure of vampiric passion. Even worse? Kisten knew he had tipped me over the edge and that I had been a breath away from saying yes.

Exhausted, I elbowed the light switch and dropped my shoulder bag on the counter. Fluorescent lights flickered on, sending Mr. Fish into a frenzy of motion. Soft jazz and the rise and fall of conversation filtered in from the unseen living room. Kisten’s leather coat was draped over Ivy’s chair before her computer. There was a half-full pot of coffee, and after a moment’s thought, I poured it into my gigantic mug. Trying to be quiet, I started a new batch. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Kisten’s voice was as smooth and warm as a bubble bath.

“Ivy, love,” he pleaded as I got the grounds out of the fridge. “It’s only one night. An hour, maybe. In and out.”

“No.”

Ivy’s voice was cold, the warning obvious. Kisten was pushing her past where I would, but they’d grown up together, the children of wealthy parents who expected them to join their families and have little vamp brats to continue Piscary’s living-vampire line before they died and became true undead. It wouldn’t happen—the marriage, not the dead part. They had already tried the cohabitation route, and while neither would say what happened, their relationship had cooled until all that was left was more of a warped sibling fondness.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Kisten persuaded, laying his fake British accent on heavy. “Just be there. I’ll say everything.”

“No.”

Someone snapped off the music, and I silently pulled the silverware drawer open for the coffee scoop. Three pixy girls darted out, shrieking. I bit back my yelp, heart pounding as they vanished down the dark hallway. Motions quick from adrenaline, I poked around to find the scoop missing. I finally spotted it in the sink. Kisten must have made the coffee. If it had been Ivy, her asinine need for order would have had it washed, dried, and put away.