“You got blood-sugared in five minutes?” Ivy sounded horrified.

“Yeah,” I said dryly. “Maybe you ought to try it. Go sit and soak up the pheromones at Piscary’s. They might not let you in, though. You might kill everyone else’s buzz.”

Her breath caught, and I immediately wished I could take it back. Shit. “Ivy … I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Let me talk to Kisten,” came her soft voice.

I licked my lips, feeling like dirt. “Sure.”

Fingers cold, I handed the phone to him. His unreadable eyes met mine for a flash. He listened for a moment, muttered something I didn’t catch, then ended the call. I watched him for any hint of his mood as he tucked the little silver phone away behind his wool coat.

“Blood-sugared?” I questioned, thinking I ought to know what happened. “You want to tell me what that is exactly?”

His hands shifted on the wheel and he took a more relaxed position. The come-and-go flashes from the streetlights made eerie shadows on him. “It’s a mild depressant,” he said, “that vampires kick out when they’re sated and relaxed. Sort of like an afterglow? It came as a surprise the first time a few of the newest undead got sugared shortly after Piscary’s went to an all-vamp clientele. It did them a world of good, so I took out the tables upstairs and put in a light show and DJ. Made it into a dance club. Everyone got sugared after that.”

He hesitated as we made a sharp turn into an enormous parking lot down by the riverfront. Piles of snow rose six feet up at the edges. “It’s a natural high,” he said as he downshifted and drove slowly to the small cluster of cars parked by a large brightly lit boat at the dock. “Legal, too. Everyone likes it, and they’ve started self-policing themselves, kicking out anyone who comes in looking for a quick bleed and protecting the ones who come in hurting and fall asleep like you did. It’s making a difference, too. Go ask that FIB captain of yours. Violent crimes being perpetrated by single young vamps have dropped.”

“No kidding,” I said, thinking it sounded like an informal vampire support group. Maybe Ivy should go. Nah. She’d ruin it for everyone else.

“You wouldn’t have been so receptive if you hadn’t needed it so much,” he said, parking at the outskirts.

“Oh, so it is my fault,” I said dryly.

“Don’t,” he said, his words harsh as he yanked the parking brake up. “I let you yell at me once already tonight. Don’t try to flip this back on me. The more you need it, the harder it hits you is all. That’s why no one thought anything less of you—and maybe they think a little more.”

Taken aback, I made an apologetic face. “Sorry.” I kinda liked that he was too smart to be manipulated by wicked female logic. It made things more interesting. Slowly he relaxed, turning off the heater and the softly playing disc.