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“—is to convince you to change.”

I nodded soberly. “I won’t.”

“Then one of my brothers will kill you. I can’t protect you forever.”

I shook off the unsettling moment we’d just had and wrestled the whiskey back from her to refill my glass. “I’m probably going to die, then. I’m too old to change.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You are so many contradictions, Jame Asher.”

“Like?”

“You are so meticulous to avoid death, yet so reckless when it comes to life. You’re a violent savage to my people, yet fiercely protective of your own. You hate all Infernari...” her eyes flicked between mine, “...yet you don’t hate me.”

Her words unnerved me. “Yes, I do.”

“Then why did you save me? Why am I not still tied up in the back of your wheeled machine?”

Because you’re innocent.

Because you’re kindhearted and brave.

Because I might likewhoyou are more than I hatewhatyou are.

“Because it’s easier when you cooperate,” I said, bristling at her questions. I drained the rest of my glass and slammed it down on the bar, startling the girl on the other side of me. Working the cash register, the bartender eyed me like she regretted giving me that bottle. “Look, you’re a good girl, Lana. You might be theonlygood demon out there. If anyone’s got a shot at turning me, it’s you. Hell, Dominus probably hand-picked you just for me... a little doe-eyed fawn to fuck with Jame Asher’s head. Whatever... I’m drunk.” I grabbed the bottle and staggered off the barstool. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I threw a wad of bills on the counter and, after snatching up the whiskey bottle, I grabbed Lana’s hand. I felt her grip tighten around mine as I pulled her out into the crowded street. She wove a little, too, clearly more tipsy than she let on. She better be, considering how much alcohol I’d fed her.

Thanks to Louisiana’s open container law, I could walk right down the center of Bourbon Street swigging my bottle of Jack like a sailor. Half the crowd carried Styrofoam “go cups” from the countless lit-up bars and strip clubs lining the street for blocks. Like Disneyland for adults.

The thought triggered a memory. Disneyland on Joy’s second birthday.

Instantly, my mood soured.

I washed it down with another swig from the bottle. No one even gave me a second glance.

But oh, they gave Lana second glances. Plenty of them.

Sashaying next to me in her skintight jumpsuit, her eyes a luminous blue-violet and her long hair breezing unnaturally behind her, she had the attention of every guy on Bourbon Street. A whole crowd of douchebags parted around us, eyeing her up and down and whistling.

Their catcalls grated my nerves. But unlike the guy I glared at earlier, they were too drunk to heed my stare telling them to back the fuck off.

“Let’s see some titties!” one of them hollered, dancing in front of her, a dozen necklaces of glittery beads clanking around his neck.

Lana had halted, momentarily mesmerized by the rainbow colors.

“I’ll give you my best beads...” he continued, “this one right here if you show us your tits...” He fumbled to get one off.

Nuh-uh. I wasnotinthe mood for this crap.

All night, I’d kept it on lockdown. But seeing this little twerp, seeing his crap plastic beads jingling over his fraternity hoodie, seeing him yelling and shaking his beads in Lana’s face, I cracked.

I tried to keep my cool, but I couldn’t.

Rage flared under my skin, and my fingers clamped into fists.

I tossed the bottle aside, grabbed the guy by the collar, and shoved him up against a nearby arch. “Mardi Gras’s in February,” I growled. “So take your beads and get the fuck out of my way.”

He shoved me back. “It’salwaysMardi Gras where I go.” His breath reeked of beer. “That your girl? ’Cause she was eyeing my beads like she wanted some.”