Ivy went furious, her eyes going to black pits. The tension wouldn’t let me breathe. The crickets outside chirped faster. With an exaggerated slowness, Kist cautiously leaned toward Ivy. “If you don’t want to break her in,” he said, his voice low with anticipation, “give her to me. I’ll give her back to you.” His lips parted to show his glistening canines. “Scout’s honor.”

Ivy’s breath came in a quick pant. Her face was an unreal mix of lust and hatred. I could see her struggle to overcome her hunger, and I watched in a horrid fascination as it slowly vanished until only the hatred was left. “Get out,” she said, her voice husky and wavering.

Kist took a slow breath. The tension flowed out of him as he exhaled. I found I could breathe again. I took quick, shallow breaths as my gaze darted between them. It was over. Ivy had won. I was—safe?

“It’s stupid, Tamwood,” Kist said as he adjusted his black leather jacket in a careful show of ease. “A waste of a good span of darkness for something that doesn’t exist.”

With swift, abrupt steps, Ivy went to the back door. Sweat trickled down the small of my back as the breeze from her passage touched me. Cold morning air spilled in, displacing the blackness that seemed to have filled the room. “She’s mine,” Ivy said as if I wasn’t there. “She’s under my protection. What I do or don’t do with her is my business. You tell Piscary if I see one of his shadows at my church again, I’ll assume he’s making a bid of contention to what I hold. Ask him if he wants a war with me, Kist. You ask him that.”

Kist passed between Ivy and me, hesitating on the sill. “You can’t hide your hunger from her forever,” Kist said, and Ivy’s lips pressed together. “Once she sees, she’ll run, and she’ll be fair prey.” In a clock-tick he slumped, a bad-boy look softening his features. “Come back,” he cajoled with a sultry innocence. “I’m to tell you that you can have your old place again with only a minor concession. She’s just a witch. You don’t even know if she—”

“Out,” Ivy said, pointing at the morning.

Kist stepped through the door. “An offer shunned makes dire enemies.”

“An offer that really isn’t one shames the one who makes it.”

Shrugging, he pulled a leather cap from his back pocket and put it on. He glanced at me, his gaze going hungry. “Good-bye, love,” he whispered, and I shuddered as if he had run a slow hand across my cheek. I couldn’t tell if it was revulsion or desire. And he was gone.

Ivy slammed the door behind him. Moving with that same eerie grace, she crossed the living room and dropped into a chair. Her face was dark with anger, and I stared at her. Holy crap. I was living with a vampire. Nonpracticing or not, she was a vamp. What had Kist said? That Ivy was wasting her time? That I’d run when I saw her hunger? That I was hers? Shit.