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“I think it’s as good a plan as any,” he said. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Torr—”

He winked at Toni, letting her know he wasn’t angry, and pushed his empty glass across the bar to his brother.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he turned and stalked outside.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he looked up the street. He played with the idea of finding a blood donor—he hadn’t fed since coming here—or heading to Amendment 18, the speakeasy where Lawrence used to work. But he wanted to see her again, and Torr had never been good at denying himself something he wanted. He wasn’t about to start now.

* * *

She hadn’t leftthe apartment all day.

Charlotte could have gone out after the school day ended, but she would have needed to pretend she was sick if she ran into anyone. Which, of course, was likely. Instead, she’d lain in bed thinking of all that Alessandra had told her, turning it over and over in her mind.

Vampires. Cheld. A seven-hundred-year-old Scotsman.

Scotland. He was actually from Scotland, born in the thirteenth century. What would he look like in a kilt?

Oh. My. Word. Why was she still thinking of him?

Netflix. She would rewatch Hart of Dixie. Over the top, maybe. But it reminded her of home. Although she liked it here, a lot, she still felt nostalgic for aspects of her childhood. The places she’d loved, her nanny, her childhood friends. She’d tried to stay in touch with some of them, but it was difficult. And over time, most had drifted away.

She turned on the show, sucked into the familiar drama of it—so much so she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a knock on the door. She glanced at her phone. No one had texted to say they’d be visiting.

Pausing Netflix, Charlotte jumped from her safe haven and made her way to the door. She peered through the peephole, only to see the very Scotsman who’d consumed her thoughts all day.

Bolting into action, Charlotte raced to the bathroom. She ran a brush through her hair and guzzled mouthwash as if her life depended on it.

What the hell was she doing?

Another knock.

Racing back, she peeked through the peephole again. He was gone!

Although it would be impossible to pretend she didn’t care if she literally raced after him, Charlotte burst into the hallway.

“Torr?” she said, catching him just as he turned to head down the stairs.

He was dressed casually, in jeans, a T-shirt, and a dark hooded sweatshirt.

Dangerous.

It was the best word she could think of to describe him.

“You shouldn’t have dressed up for me,” he said, smirking.

And a complete smart-ass.

Charlotte had on black yoga pants and a Stone Haven University T-shirt Alessandra had given her.

“Maybe if you’d let me know you were coming—”

He just stood there at the top of the stairs, his hand still on the railing as if he hadn’t yet decided whether to stay or go.

“You’d have dressed up for me?”