"Avoid fur? Eat organic food?"

 "That too," he chuckled.

 "Funny," I said after a moment's silence. Something had just struck me.

 "What?"

 "This whole time, we've talked about current things. No sharing of traumatic childhoods, college days, exes, or whatever."

 "So what's funny about that?"

 "Nothing really. It's just that the human mating process usually seems to dictate everyone share their histories."

 "You want to do that?"

 "Not really." I actually hated that part of dating. I always had to edit my past. I hated the lying, having to keep track of my stories.

 "I think the past plagues us enough without muddling it into our present. I'd rather look forward, not backward."

 I studied him curiously. "Does your past plague you?"

 "Very much so. I fight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does."

 God only knew mine did the same. It was odd to talk to someone about this, someone who felt the same way. I wondered how many people in the world walked around with invisible baggage, hiding it from others. Even while packing said baggage, I'd always kept it concealed. I had a driving need to keep up surface appearances—hence the so-called "happy face." I'd smiled and nodded through the worst times of my life, and when that superficial reaction had not been enough, I'd finally just run—even though it cost me my soul.

 I smiled slightly. "Well then. I'm glad you and I stick to the present."

 He tweaked my noise. "Me too. In fact, my present is looking pretty damned good right now. Maybe my future too, if I keep weakening your resolve."

 "Don't push it."

 "Aw, come on. Admit it. You find my outrage at the powers-that-be endearing. Maybe even erotic."

 "I think 'entertaining' would be a better word. If you want outrage, you should spend time with Doug, my coworker. You guys have a lot in common. By day he cleans up and plays respectable assistant manager, by night he's the lead singer of this wacky band, registering his discontent against society through music."

 Roman's eyes flickered with interest. "Does he play around here?"

 "Yup. He'll be at the Old Greenlake Brewery this Saturday. Me and some of the other staff are going."

 "Oh yeah? What time should I meet you?"

 "I don't recall inviting you."

 "Don't you? Because I could have sworn you just named a day and place. Sounded like a passive invitation to me. You know, the kind where it'd be my job to say 'mind if I come along,' and then you say 'yeah, no problem,' and so it goes. I just skipped a few steps."

 "Most efficient of you," I observed.

 "So... mind if I come along?"

 I groaned. "Roman, we can't keep going out. It was cute at first, but it was only supposed to be one date. We've already gone past that. People at work think you're my boyfriend." Casey and Beth had informed me recently what a " hottie" I had.

 "Do they?" He looked very happy about this.

 "I'm not joking here. I mean it when I say I don't want to get serious with anyone right now."

 And yet, I didn't really mean it. Not in my heart. I'd spent centuries cutting myself off from any sort of meaningful attachment with another person, and it hurt. Even when I had purposely cultivated relationships with nice guys in my succubus glory days, I had immediately dropped them and disappeared post-sex. In some ways, my life now was even harder. I avoided the guilt of stealing a nice man's life energy, but I never had true companionship either. No one who cared exclusively for me. Sure, I had friends, but they had their own lives, and those who got too close—like Doug— had to be pushed away again for their own good.

 "Don't you believe in casual dating? Or even male-female friendships?"

 "No," I answered decisively. "I do not."

 "What about the other males in your life? That Doug guy? The dance instructor? Even that writer? You're friends with them, aren't you?"

 "Well, yeah, but that's different. I'm not attracted—"

 I bit off my words, but it was too late. Roman's face bloomed with hope and pleasure. He leaned toward me, touching my cheek with his hand.

 I swallowed, terrified and thrilled by how close he was. Beer and sake had made me fuzzy in body and mind, and I made a mental promise not to drink the next time we went out. Not that we were going out again... right? Alcohol confused my senses, made it harder to differentiate between the succubus feeding instinct and pure, primal lust. Either one was dangerous around him.

 And yet... in that moment, lust wasn't even really the issue. He was. Being with him. Talking to him. Having someone in my life again. Someone who cared about me. Someone who understood me. Someone I could go home to. And with.

 "What time should I meet you?" he murmured.

 I looked down, suddenly feeling warm. "It's a late show..."

 His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, intertwining with my hair and tipping my face toward his. "You want to hang out beforehand?"

 "We shouldn't." My words all seemed long and drawn-out, like I was swimming in molasses.

 Roman leaned over and kissed my ear. "I'll be at your place at seven."

 "Seven," I repeated.

 His lips moved to kiss the part of my cheek closest to my ear, then the cheek's center, then just below my mouth. His lips hovered so close to mine; my whole body concentrated on that proximity. I could feel the heat from his mouth, like it had its own private aura. Everything moved in slow motion. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted him to consume me with his lips and his tongue. I wanted it and feared it, yet felt powerless to act either way.

 "Can I get you something else?"

 The waiter's mildly embarrassed voice shattered my numbing haze, snapping me back to reason, reminding me what would happen to Roman even with a kiss. Not too much, true, but enough. I broke out of his grasp and shook my head. "Nothing else. Just the check."

 Roman and I spoke little after that. He drove me home and made no advances when he walked me to the door, only smiling kindly as he chucked me under the chin again and reminded me he'd be by at seven on Saturday.

 I went to bed restless and aching for sex. The alcohol helped me fall asleep easily, but when I awoke in the morning, lying in bed in a drowsy state, I could still remember how it had felt to have his lips so close to mine. The lustful yearning returned with a vengeance.

 "This is no good," I complained to Aubrey, rolling out of bed.

 I had three hours before work and knew I needed to do something other than daydream about Roman. Remembering that I had never followed up with Erik, I decided I should pay him a visit. The vampire hunter theory was more or less obsolete as far as I was concerned, but he might have found something else of use. I could also ask him about fallen angels.

 Considering the whole "stashing" threat, I probably should have experienced more concern about going back to Arcana, Ltd. Still, I felt more or less safe. One thing I had learned about the archdemon was that he was not a morning person. He didn't really need rest, of course, but it was a mortal luxury he'd taken to wholeheartedly. I expected him to still be asleep, wherever he was, with no way of knowing what I planned to do.

 Dressing and eating breakfast, I soon hit the road to Lake City. I found the shop effortlessly now, feeling dismay once more at its barren look and empty parking lot. Yet, when I entered, I saw a dark shape leaning over a corner of books, too tall to be Erik. Pleasure at the thought of Erik getting more business coursed through me until the figure straightened and fixed me with a sardonic, gray-eyed expression.

 "Hello, Georgina."

 I swallowed. "Hello, Carter."