Candice’s eyes flashed to black. The warmth in my scar died. Angry, she drew away, her hand atop Lee’s shoulder. “I don’t care if you are Tamwood’s plaything,” she said, trying to be all Queen of the Damned, but I lived with a truly dangerous vampire and her efforts were pathetic. “I can take you down,” she finished.

My jaw clenched. “I live with Ivy. I’m not her plaything,” I said softly, hearing a muted cheer from downstairs. “What does that tell you?”

“Nothing,” she said, her pretty face going ugly.

“And nothing is exactly what you’re going to get from me, so back off.”

Lee stepped between us. “Candice,” he said, putting a hand on the small of her back and pushing her to the door. “Do me a favor, sweetheart. Get Ms. Morgan some coffee, will you? She’s working tonight.”

“Black, no sugar,” I said, hearing my voice rasp. My heart was pounding and sweat had broken out. Black witches I could handle. Skilled, hungry vampires were a little harder.

Unkinking my fingers from Trent’s arm, I pulled away. His face was quiet as he looked at me and then the vamp Lee was escorting to the door. “Quen …” he whispered.

“Quen wouldn’t have had a chance,” I said, my heart slowing. If she had been an undead, neither would I. But Saladan wouldn’t have been able to convince an undead vampire to back him, lest Piscary find out and kill him or her twice. There was honor among the dead. Or maybe it was just fear.

Lee said a few words to Candice, and the woman slunk out into the hall, giving me a sly smile before she left. Red heels were the last I saw of her. My thoughts spun when I noticed she had an anklet identical to Ivy’s. There couldn’t be more than one like that without a reason—perhaps Kisten and I ought to chat.

Not knowing what it meant, if anything, I sat in one of the green upholstered chairs before I fell over from the fading adrenaline. Hands clasped to hide their faint trembling, I thought of Ivy and the protection she gave me. No one had made a play for me like that in months, not since the vamp at the perfume counter had mistaken me for someone else. If I had to fight that off every day, it would only be a matter of time before I became a shadow of myself: thin, anemic, and belonging to someone. Or worse, belonging to anyone.

The sound of sliding fabric pulled my attention to Trent as he sat in the second chair. “You all right?” he breathed when Lee shut the door behind Candice with a firm thump.

His voice was soothing, surprising me. Forcing myself to straighten, I nodded, wondering why he cared, or even if he did. Exhaling, I forced my hands open and loose.

Bustling with efficiency, Lee edged back around his desk and sat. He was smiling to show his white teeth amid his suntanned face. “Trent,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was larger than ours, and I think it put him several inches taller. Subtle. “I’m glad you came to see me. We should talk before anything gets more out of hand than it has.”