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more unsavory types. Like him.
    He ordered a Stoli and Seven and sat down on a bar stool. A group of vampires played pool in the back, but he ignored them. They weren’t friendly to anyone who didn’t live in their nest, and he preferred to be alone, anyway. Still, he chose The Black Cat because there was a certain comfort in hanging with other creatures of the night. No need to explain his presence or intentions at The Black Cat, no one asked questions there.
    Therese, the bartender, slid the drink across the counter. She was mortal, but seemed attracted to his kind, not that she knew what they were. The goth crowd had an affinity to vampires whether they recognized them or not. The vampires at the pool table were regulars here, and even though they didn’t work for Garrett—only his own pack members served as bouncers—they protected the place. He had seen them carry trouble-makers out the back door, probably draining any who gave too much of a fight.
    “How’s it going?” Therese purred, leaning over the bar to give him a full display of her ample cleavage.
    “Well.”
    “Well, what?”
    “It’s going well. How are things here?” The small talk bored him, as did Therese’s attempt to flirt.
    She squeezed against the sides of her breasts with her upper arms so they moved together and forward, like an offering.
    Unbidden, the image of Sasha’s lovely pair rose in his mind, and he remembered the pleasure of flustering her when he sliced off her bra with his teeth. He planned to do so much more to her. In truth, he could hardly wait to do all the things he imagined. Training her to be his—
    But no.
    He stopped himself. He wasn’t training her to be his, he was using her to free himself of the curse. Period. End of story. He did not need to get involved with another fae in any sort of romantic fashion. Already she had dredged up emotions he’d forgotten existed. Like guilt for what had just transpired.
    He stayed at the bar until midnight, when he walked out and traced to Sasha’s workplace. His little mortal had already exited, walking down the sidewalk with small, tight strides.
    “Where’s the bubble?” he drawled from behind her.
    She picked up her pace, he presumed to show him how pissed off he’d made her.
    “I don’t think I like you walking home alone at night. Do you always use the bubble or just when you see vampires?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “I caution you not to use that bubble around vampires unless you really have to. You don’t want someone less savory than I taking an interest in you.”
    “Oh I doubt there are vampires less savory than you,” she muttered, not turning to look at him as she continued to stomp on toward her place.
    “There are,” he said, thinking of the crowd at the bar and knowing how quick they’d be to take her life.  “And they would drain you, Sasha, the moment they saw your power.”
    “Okay, thanks for the warning,” she called out with exaggerated disinterest. She continued marching on, not speaking. When she reached her doorway, she said, “You are not invited in,” as she swung the door open, watching him intently. “You are uninvited,” she repeated, as if testing for the right combination of words.
    Either phrase did the job. He hissed, hitting an invisible barrier.
    She grinned, looking delighted her tactical move had worked and slammed the door in his face.
    He immediately began to pound on the door. When she didn’t respond, he pounded louder until her neighbor’s door opened. “What the hell is—”  he caught her eye and sent her back into her place, planting the suggestion that all sounds from Sasha’s place be blocked and she forget seeing him. She toddled back into her apartment and he resumed the pounding.
    “Knock it off or I’ll call the cops,” she called through the door.
    “What do you think they’ll do?” he demanded, still banging his fist on her door. He imagined her considering and realizing no police force could