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“It’s looking good, popular even. Thank you for the extra decorations.”

“You’re welcome.” Reynard could barely take his eyes from his artwork. He’d tucked his hair behind both ears, thinning his face and adding more seriousness, but there was a wicked little shimmer of hunger in his eyes that suggested he hadn’t had this much fun in a while. He’d tossed his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves too. He looked even better all tousled and manic.

“Can you get me a gremlin?”

“A what now?”

“A gremlin.” He waved a hand. “You have traps all over. I just need one to grease the gears.”

“Grease the—” Oh. Blood. He was talking about blood. I didn’t much like the gremlins that lived in our walls, but I also wasn’t too keen on sacrificing one, even for the greater good. “Can’t you just use mine?”

His glare snapped to me. “Most certainly, Adam.”

He reached out and I automatically offered my wrist, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to expose your veins to a blood-sucking vampire. I expected him to use a knife, or something similarly sharp, but as he brought my wrist to his lips, I realized my faux pas too late.

His warm, soft mouth touched my skin, sending an electric shiver through me, chased by the brief pinprick jab of his fangs. His eyes fixed on mine, pupils widening, and just like before, those little shivers traveled down my back, collecting in my cock. But in the second I realized I was about to get hard, he withdrew, tugged me forward a step, and held my wrist over the pentagram. Scarlet blood dribbled onto the chalk. The design flared, briefly electrified, before fading to a chalk line again.

“Beautiful,” Reynard said, looking at me.

Heat warmed my face. He clearly didn’t mean me. But as he held my wrist, and we stared into each other’s eyes, the seconds ticked by, and a sense of safety and comfort had me gazing back, not wanting to break free.

Reynard slid his gaze sideways, and clearing his throat, he freed my wrist. “There, now we have a shadowbeast trap.”

I brought my wrist up, and swept a few leaking drops of blood away. Reynard’s gaze tracked the movement, skipping up to my face, then back to his sacrificial pentagram.

“I should return to the party, be seen, you know . . . schmooze.” But I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay, wanted him to sink his teeth into my wrist again, wanted to get hard for him. Because it felt good, not having to hide, not being afraid. That’s why I liked him, I realized. He made me feel safe.

But it was probably just my blood that had him looking at me as though I was next on his menu of delicious morsels to eat.

“Alright, I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything to report,” he said, letting me know I could leave.

“Okay . . . great.” I backed up, tripped over an exposed beam, righted myself, and smiled at Reynard’s glance. “So I’ll, uhm, see you later.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Great.”

Why was this weird? Was I making it weird? I threw him a little wave, making it more weird, and hurried down the narrow, spiral stairs. I was being ridiculous. Just because he’d sucked on my veins, didn’t make us anything. We had a mutually beneficial agreement—wasn’t that what he’d said? Although, it didn’t feel particularly mutual. He got my blood and I got a hard-on, but no payoff.

I cleared my throat and righted my clothes as I hurried down the corridor. I definitely needed Zee back to keep me from straying too deep into Reynard territory.

The lobby was even busier. Drinks flowed. Reynard’s caterers had provided plates of little nibbles that seemed to be going down well.

“Of course, he won’t be staying here long,” a familiar voice announced so loudly, everyone in the bar heard him over the jukebox. Sebastien. I spotted his wing tips and horns, both gleaming with painted-on rainbow glitter. “He’s mine you know. I discovered him, I own him.”

I veered away, not wanting to get into a fight with Zee’s ex-boss. Typical, he’d show up, trying to muscle in on Zee’s new life—the one he’d chosen, here, with me.

“Ah, Mr. Vex.” Detective Somers greeted, lifting his gaze from the small plate of tasty hors d’oeuvres he was carrying. “Quite the impressive turnout.” He held a thin glass of bubbly drink in his other hand. “And nobody has died. Yet.”

“Oh, Detective, how . . . great it is that you’re here.” I laughed, hoping I didn’t sound strained.

“It’s pretty damn remarkable what you’re doing here. I’ve never seen Lost Ones packed in so close with humans without a massacre ensuing.”

“Oh, let’s hope there’s no massacre!” I laughed again.

“The night’s still young . . . You’ve got some blood there.”

“What?” My shirt cuff was all bloody from Reynard’s bite. I hastily folded it up. “Just a little . . . shaving accident.”