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strode out into the main room. If they were leaving early, he needed to feed. There were a lot of hours between Collins Bay and Venice. Sure, there would be blood on the plane, but nothing straight out of the body. It would be that reheated, processed shit they got from the blood bank. And if Michael was finally giving him a chance to be more than the brain of the group, he needed to be at his best.
    He scanned the dance floor, looking from face to face in the changing lights. There’d been a couple of girls he’d let in earlier. If they hadn’t left—
    There. At the edge of the dance floor was a young girl in a strapless black dress. She was no more than twenty-two, with a body made for porn. Even G had been checking her out, and he didn’t go for women under thirty.
    Blane ruffled his hand through his hair and strode toward her. When he was only a few yards away, the girl glanced up, then back to her drink. Even across the distance, he could see her nipples harden. Yeah, she was into him.
    He slid onto the stool beside her and turned his body toward hers so that their legs touched. “Hey.”
    She looked up at him, then smiled a sweet smile that made her cheek dimple.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Dahlia,” she yelled over the music.
    “Well, Dahlia. I just wanted to tell you something.”

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    Her brows pulled up. “What?”
    He leaned in, almost touching her ear with his lips. That power inside him sparked, ready to do its thing, and he concentrated on bending her will. Only a little, to make the game go faster.
    He wasn’t into rape. But there was no need to take hours just to get past her defenses. So he only used a tiny amount to relax her. “I’ve been watching you all night, and I can’t stop.”
    Dahlia giggled. He could feel the heat from her face as she blushed, but didn’t pull away.
    “Thank you.”
    “Let’s go somewhere else.”
    She pulled back and arched a brow at him.
    “I’m not going to hurt you. We don’t have to leave the club. Let’s just go somewhere quiet.”
    Dahlia shrugged.
    He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall to the private rooms. Blane led her inside and shut the door behind him, turning the lock as he went.
    She flicked the light switch. The room went dark, forcing his senses to strengthen. Her blood and the scent of her wet skin filled the room. He smiled to himself. Oh, if the girl only knew.
    “I like it dark.” Her voice was slow and seductive. “You don’t mind, do you?”
    “Not at all.” He pulled the toothpick from his mouth and dropped it to the floor.
    Blane reached out to grab her. His hands locked around her warm shoulders and pulled her forward. There would be no foreplay, no pretending. Just like it had been with all the other women since Christiana had stepped into his life. It would be a great day when that woman walked right back out of his life again. Then—maybe—things would go back to normal and he

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    would stop dreaming about her every damned day.
    The woman went straight for his zipper.
    “Whoa.” He backed up against the door.
    “Want me to stop?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    He pulled her face to his, but he didn’t kiss her. He never kissed them, the humans. It didn’t seem fair. Instead his lips went to that soft, warm jawbone, then trailed down toward her pulse. Her heart was racing, tempting him as she stroked her hand over his hardened flesh. He’d only wanted her blood, but who was he to deny a hand job?
    At least this way, he could bury his face in her neck and try not to think about it being her .

    * * * *
Christiana slurped down the last of the third glass of that wonderful pink drink. She had to give kudos to Jonas; the creative new menu for their kind was a nice deviation. The Blood Daiquiri she’d ordered was strangely cold, an acquired taste, but it did give a nice buzz, like drinking from an intoxicated human. Khalil would be interested in the innovations.
    Tossing a sizeable tip onto the table, she