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“Yes.”

Is this guy not listening?

“But you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes.” A little thrill runs through me, before I frown. “Though, what you described doesn’t sound like a date.”

“When’s your next Heat?” His eyes rake over me. “The right Alpha can make it so good you’ll melt.”

“I agree,” I say, puzzled by this shift in topic. “My sex partner handles my Heats, and he’s good at it. Really good.”

A complex, climbing guitar riff rises above the bar noise, and my head whips toward the stage.

Kain stands at the front with his guitar, his fingers dancing across the frets in the opening of Starfall. The riff builds, layer on layer, each note a driving force.

His dark hair falls across his forehead, and his eyes are closed, his body moving with the music.

A hand closes over my arm, demanding my attention. My gaze drops to the fingers gripping my sleeve, then travels up to its owner.

The Alpha. I forgot all about him.

Annoyance twists his features. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering here.”

“No, I understand.” I look back down at his hand. “You mis-categorized sex as dating, and my sex slot is already filled. So, no thank you.”

His hold on me tightens. “You’re a weird little tease, is that it?”

I search my database but come up blank. “I don’t think so?”

Before I can ask for clarification, a solid presence looms over the table. The bar’s bouncer, Dex, sets a heavy hand on the Alpha’s shoulder. “Sir, I’m gonna ask you to remove your hand.”

The Alpha’s eyes flick to the bouncer, then back to me, and his grip loosens.

“Let’s take a walk,” Dex says.

The Alpha releases my arm and straightens his jacket as he stands. Without another look at me, he follows the bouncer toward the front door.

I watch them go, my arm tingling where his fingers left a ghost of pressure.

So much for the dating simulation. I’d already mapped out the whole quest: the arcade, the conversation, the mechanics of learning someone new.

He’d seemed like a promising start.

Game over.

Dead Frequency shifts into Blue Static, and the bass kicks in, drawing my attention back to the stage.

Kain’s eyes open, and he finds me across the bar, his chin tilting toward his side of the platform.

I scoot out of the booth, and the bass moves through the floor and up through the soles of my shoes. The vibration travels through my ankles, my calves, my knees, the hex pattern of Pulse Riot mapped across an entire room, and my body moves through it on instinct.

I weave through the crowd toward the stage, close enough that every bass hit pulses through my skin. Close enough that when Kain looks down during the chorus, I’m there, waiting for him.

This is better than dating. This game’s rules are already written in my bones.

3

The strike zone at the top right corner flashes green under my thumb, and I hold the combo for another seven beats before the next sequence drops.