Alec led us through a side door in the house, and even I was taken aback at what I found inside. The first word that came to mind was lush. And not the drunk kind either. I meant in the opulent sense, the kind of lush you sink your teeth into. The walls, floor, and ceilings consisted of gleaming dark hardwood, almost like we were inside a lodge—say, a lodge that cost seven figures. Beams of that beautiful wood crisscrossed the open, cathedral ceiling. Jewel-toned oil paintings in gilt frames hung on the walls, and I had enough of a sense for the value of art to recognize they had not come from Bed Bath & Beyond.

We crossed out of the foyer and found more of the same in a large living room. Its focal point was an enormous fireplace whose brick façade stretched to the ceiling. A multicolored stained-glass landscape hung above the fireplace's opening, and flames from the roaring fire—along with several strategically placed candles—cast the only light in the room. Nothing electrical.

In that dim, flickering lighting, I sensed the man before I saw him. The same unfamiliar immortal signature from the concert carried to me, coupled with something else. This close to him, I noticed how much he felt like the crystals. Or rather, how much the crystals felt like him, as if they were pale, fractured versions of the masterpiece. The whole vibe from him felt weird but not quite as discordant as the crystals themselves had.

"Alec," said a creamy voice, "who is your lovely friend?"

The man unfolded from the couch, standing in one fluid motion. I now saw the same features as before: flawless tanned skin, long black hair, high cheekbones. He also wore the same hot Victorian couture, complete with another of those gorgeous silk shirts that billowed around his arms and showed smooth skin through the V-neck.

"This is Georgina," said Alec, voice quaking with nervousness and excitement. "Just like I said."

The man glided to us and took my hand in both of his. "Georgina. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He drew my hand to his lips—which were full and pink—and kissed my skin. He held my hand a moment, letting his dark eyes bore into mine, and then he slowly straightened up and released me. "My name is Sol."

I turned off all my impulses to make snappy jokes and/or maul this guy, instead opting for stunned innocence mingled with a little fear. "H-hello." I swallowed nervously and looked down at my feet.

"You've done well," Sol told Alec. "Very well."

I didn't have to see Alec to tell he was practically melting with relief. "So…does that mean…I can, you know…?"

"Yes, yes." Unless I was mistaken, a slight note of irritation underscored that pleasant voice. "Afterward. Go upstairs now. I'll summon you when I'm ready. "

Alec started to leave, and I grabbed his sleeve, still playing frightened maiden. "Wait—where are you going?"

He smiled at me. "I'll be right back. It's okay. You wanted more, right? Sol's going to get it for you."

I must have truly looked terrified because he squeezed my arm reassuringly. "It's okay. Really."

I bit my lip and gave him a hesitant nod. His eyes held mine for a moment, and something very like regret flickered across them. Then he left.

"Come sit with me," intoned Sol, taking my hand again.

He led me to a sumptuous couch by the fire. Warmth from that orange glow spilled over me, and the flames were reflected in his dark eyes. I sat down gingerly, scooting back because the cushions were so big. We sat there quietly.

He smiled expectantly, and I gave him a faltering smile back. "Alec said you could give me more…you know…of that stuff."

"You enjoyed it then?"

"Yes. Oh yes. It made me feel…"

"Immortal?"

"Y-yes, that's it. Please. I need more. I can pay you…whatever you want."

He waved a hand carelessly. "We'll discuss such mundane matters later. For now, let's see if we can't satiate your hunger." He leaned over to a small table and lifted up two goblets. Goblets. How quaint. "This should tide you over until we can arrange a larger batch."

I took the cup from him. It felt heavy, like gold. Nothing but the best if you were going to drink the food of the gods, I thought. They held a dark red liquid. If the crystals felt like a weak approximation of Sol, the aura radiating off of this cup felt like mega-Sol. It was intense and strong, making the vibe from the crystals seem like a total nonevent. Maybe that was what happened when ambrosia liquefied.

I realized then he'd been waiting for me while I pondered. "Drink up."

I hesitated, not having to feign apprehension this time. Drink up? What should I do? If I didn't drink, my cover might be blown, and I still hadn't had "provocation" to smite this bastard or whatever one did to someone with a dart-arrowhead-thing. Carter and Jerome had said ambrosia wouldn't hurt an immortal; they'd even said an immortal could resist its nasty effects to a certain extent, much longer than humans. That didn't necessarily make me feel better, though. I preferred to be in my normal range of skills to deal with this, but it looked like I didn't have that luxury. I couldn't delay any longer.

Smiling shyly, I brought the cup to my lips and drank. He did the same. Who could tell? Maybe personality amplification would help me out here. Maybe I had a secret Amazonian alter ego lurking within me who was dying to jump out via the ambrosia and bludgeon this guy with a goblet.

Once Sol started drinking, he didn't stop. He tipped the cup back until he'd consumed it all. I followed suit. The stuff really didn't taste so bad. In fact, it tasted sweet, almost sickeningly so. Weirdest of all was its consistency. Thick. Almost viscous.

"There," he said, taking my empty cup. "You'll feel better soon, and then we can talk reasonably." He shifted into a more comfortable position, long legs stretched out and relaxed. He had a slim build and delicate features. His narrow fingers wound one of his black curls around it. "Tell me about yourself, Georgina. What do you do?"

"I, uh, work in a bookstore."

"Ah, you're a reader then."

"I try to be."

He inclined his head toward a wall covered in books. "I'm a reader myself. There's no greater pursuit than improving one's mind. "

He started talking to me about some of his favorite books, and I smiled and commented as appropriate. As we talked, I began to feel…well, for lack of a more descriptive term, good. Really good. Almost like I was buzzed from an excellent liqueur. My limbs tingled a little, and a warm sense of euphoria burned through me. I heard myself laughing at one of his jokes. I almost sounded genuine.

"You're very beautiful," he suddenly said, and I wondered when he'd moved so close to me. I had to blink to stay focused. The room spun slightly, and my hands and feet kept delaying in obeying my orders. Sol reached out and touched my cheek, trailing those graceful fingers down my neck. "Your beauty is a gift."

I tried to move, mainly to see if I could actually manage it, not to avoid his touch. Honestly, his touch was pleasant—extremely pleasant. It made my pulse pick up a little. I could, I soon discovered, still move. I was just a little sluggish.

"Shhh," he crooned, placing a restraining hand on my wrist. "Don't be afraid. Everything will be all right."

"W-what are you doing?"

He had an arm around my waist now and was moving his mouth toward the spot where my neck met my shoulder. His lips, when they touched flesh, were warm and full of promise. I trembled a little under that kiss and tried to figure out what was going on here.

The short answer, obviously, was that something had gone wrong. I felt dizzy and disoriented enough to be at a frat party over at U.W. On top of that, this immortal—this strange immortal I barely knew—suddenly seemed more alluring than I'd imagined possible. Hadn't I come here to kick his ass? Why was I making out with him? Was this what ambrosia did to me? Were these my core traits—the power to get buzzed and take pleasure in sex? To become even easier than I already was?