Kist jerked me off my feet and let go.

I fell on my can, the wooden floor bruising. I stared up at him as the vamps laughed. Kist's face, though, was empty. No anger, no speculation. Nothing.

"You smell like Ivy," he said as I got to my feet, my heart hammering. "You aren't bound to her, though." A sliver of satisfaction marred his stoic expression. "She couldn't do it."

"What are you talking about?" I snarled, embarrassed and angry as I brushed myself off.

His eyes narrowed. "It felt good, didn't it? Me touching your scar? Once a vamp binds you by blood, only they can elicit that kind of a response. Who bit you and didn't bother to claim you?" His face went thoughtful, and I thought I saw a glimmer of lust. "Or did you kill your attacker afterward to prevent being bound? You're a bad little girl."

I said nothing, letting him believe what he wanted, and he shrugged. "Since you aren't tied to anyone, any vamp can entice that kind of reaction." His eyebrows rose. "Any vamp," he repeated, and a chill went through me at the thought of Piscary waiting for me. "You should have an interesting morning," he added.

Vision clearing, he reached behind him and dragged my bag from the table. The vamps had begun to talk among themselves, making casual, unnerving speculations as to how long I would last. Kist pulled out the butcher knife first, and hooting laughter rippled over them. My gaze went over the destruction of Piscary's as Kist set a handful of charms clattering on the table.

"Did Ivy do this?" I asked, trying to find a sliver of my confidence. The longer I kept them talking, the better the chance that Nick would get the FIB out there in time.

The vamp I had crotch-punched sneered. "In a manner of speaking." He looked at Kist, and I thought I saw the blond vamp's jaw clench. "Your roommate's a good lay," Samuel said, going smug as Kist's breath quickened and his fingers digging through my bag became rough.

"Yeah," Samuel continued in a good-old-boy's drawl. "She and Piscary got the entire restaurant hopped-up on vamp pheromones. Ended up with three fights, a couple of bites." He leaned against a table, crossed his arms and smirked. "Someone died and got carted off to the city's temporary vaults. See? He got his picture on the wall and a coupon for a free dinner. We were damned lucky we figured out what was going on and got everyone not a vamp outta here before all hell broke loose. God help us if Piscary lost his MPL and had to reapply. Took him almost a year last time." Samuel took a peanut from a bowl and threw it into the air, catching it with his mouth and grinning as he chewed.

Kist's face was red with anger. "Shut up," he said, pulling the ties to my bag closed.

"Whatsa matter?" Samuel mocked. "Just 'cause you never got Piscary that worked up doesn't mean he's gonna make her his scion."

Kist stiffened. He hadn't told anyone that Piscary already did. My eyes darted to him, his anger keeping my mouth shut.

"I said shut up," Kist warned, the heat from him almost visible.

The surrounding vamps were casually shifting back. Samuel laughed, clearly wanting to push Kist as far as he could. "Kist is jealous," he said to me with the sole intent to irritate him. "The most that ever happened when he and Piscary were going at it was a bar fight." His full lips split into a nasty grin, and he glanced cockily at the surrounding vamps. "Don't worry, old man," he directed to Kist. "Piscary will get tired of her as soon as she dies, and you'll be back on top—or bottom—or somewhere in between if you're lucky. Maybe they'll let you sit in and Ivy can teach you a thing or two."

Kist's fingers trembled. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, he moved. Too fast to follow, he crossed the circle, grabbed Samuel by the shirtfront, and shoved him up against a thick support post. The timber groaned, and I heard something snap in Samuel's chest. The bigger man's face showed a surprised shock, his eyes wide and his mouth open in pain he hadn't had time to feel.

"Shut up," Kist said softly. His jaw clenched and his eye twitched. Dropping him, Kist gave Samuel a shove, twisting his arm at an unnatural angle as the larger man fell to his knees. My breath caught at the audible pop of his shoulder dislocating.

Samuel's eyes bulged. Mouth open in a silent scream, he knelt, his arm still bent behind him, since Kist had never let go of his wrist. Kist dropped it, and Samuel gasped for air.

I stood—unable to move—frightened at how fast it had been.

Kist was suddenly before to me, and I jerked. "Here's your bag," he said, handing it to me. I snatched it, and Kist gestured that I should go before him. An opening parted in the circle. The surrounding vamps looked properly cowed. No one had gone to help Samuel, and his ragged pants for air as he lay unmoving struck me to my core.

"Don't touch me," I said as I passed Kist. "And none of you had better mess with my things while I'm gone," I added, shaking inside. My pace faltered as I took a last look at my charms and realized only about half of what I had brought was on the table.

Kist took my elbow and pulled me into motion. "Let me go," I said, the memory of him dislocating Samuel's arm keeping me from pulling away.

"Shut up," he said, the tension in his voice giving me pause.

Mind whirling, I followed his not-so-subtle direction, weaving through the tables to pass through a set of swinging doors and into the kitchen. Behind us the wait staff went back to their work, the speculations flying as they ignored Samuel.

I couldn't help notice that though smaller, my kitchen was nicer than Piscary's. Kist led me to a metal institutional-looking fire door. He opened it and flicked on a light to show a small white room floored in oak. The silver doors of an elevator were tucked out of the way. A wide-mouthed, spiral stairway leading downward took up much of one wall. The stairway was elegant, the modest chandelier above it clinking faintly in the upwelling draft. A wooden clock the size of a table hung on the wall opposite the stairway, ticking loudly.

"Down?" I said, trying to keep from looking scared. If Nick didn't find my note, there was no chance I'd be coming back up those stairs.

The fire door snicked shut behind him, and I felt the air pressure change. The draft smelled like nothing, almost a void in itself. "Let's take the elevator," Kist said, his voice unexpectedly soft. His entire posture changed as he focused on an unknown thought. He had left me some of my charms….

The elevator doors opened immediately when he pushed the button, and I got in. Kist was tight behind me, and we faced the doors as they closed. With a soft pull at my stomach, the elevator started down. Immediately I swung my bag around and opened it.

"Idiot!" Kist hissed.

A tiny shriek escaped me as he slid, pinning me into a corner. The room shifted under me and I froze, poised to act. His teeth were inches from me. My demon scar pulsed and I held my breath. The pheromones were less in here, but it didn't seem to matter. If there was elevator music, I was going to scream.

"Don't be stupid. You don't think he's got cameras in here?"

My breath came in a soft pant. "Get away from me."

"Don't think so, love," he whispered, his breath sending tingling jolts from my neck and making my blood pound. "I'm going to see just how far that scar on your neck can take you…and when I'm done, you're going to find a vial in your purse."

I stiffened as he pressed closer. The scent of leather and silk was a pleasing assault. I couldn't breathe as he nuzzled my hair out of the way. "It's Egyptian embalming fluid," he said, and I tensed as his lips shifted against my neck with his words. I didn't dare move, and if I was honest, I'd admit that I didn't want to as tingling ribbons of promise flowed from my scar. "Get it in his eyes, and it will knock him unconscious."