I slid into the hard plastic booth seat with my back to the rink. The minute my mother had said Marshal wasn’t going to last was the minute I’d started getting interested. God, I was stupid. I saw what I was doing, and I still couldn’t stop it! But I really was starting to like Marshal, and that worried me. I mean, neither of us was looking for a relationship, but that’s what made it dangerous. Both our guards were down. That, like me, he enjoyed some excitement in his life wasn’t exactly a good thing, ’cause I could give him that dressed in leather and trailing vampire incense. But it was because of that very mind-set that he hadn’t given me any grief about the new marks on my neck or the fact that a demon was gunning for me. He hadn’t dropped me like a pound of troll turds even after meeting my mom, and that was saying a lot. My life is a freaking mess.

My dates with Nick had always centered around talking or watching movies. Kisten had been more extravagant, with dinner at expensive restaurants or trips to dance clubs. But it had been ages since I’d had a date that was a nicely paced, moderate amount of activity that relaxed as well as tired me out. I wanted to just enjoy it, but I couldn’t seem to do it without pushing a little bit more to find out just where we were and if things had changed in the last fifteen minutes. Welcome to my nightmare, I thought, determined to stop it and let the man be.

I sighed, slumping in the hard plastic. I could be with a guy without thinking about a relationship. I did it all the time. There was Ford, and Glenn, and David. The guy down at the corner market who restocked the ice cream shelves and had those fabulous shoulders…But none of them were witches, and as much as I’d like to think otherwise, there was a pull there that didn’t exist with a human or Were…or even a vampire. Starting a family someday with a witch would be a whole lot easier.

I shifted my skates back and forth, my feet feeling as heavy as my mood now that I wasn’t moving. I could see the front door from where I was, and the skate counter. Someone was arguing with the attendant, Chad, and I turned to watch.

Chad had been manning the skate counter even before I had started coming to Aston’s in high school. The guy had hair to his elbows and was half out of his mind from past Brimstone use, not giving a crap about anyone but good at his job. The perfect customer-relations person, Chad could do anything up to and including throwing out a patron, and Mr. Aston wouldn’t fire him.