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“Thirsty?” Librada asked, already heading behind the ornate wooden bar.

Elena made a noncommittal sound. Standing there, she realized she didn’t know what the hell she wanted.

Librada curled her claws around a bottle of bourbon. Like she was assessing how to disarm a bomb, she kept her eyes trained on Elena. After a beat, she let it go and changed tactics without Elena having to speak a word.

“The witch’s blood is still warm,” Librada offered.

“I’ve had enough witch bullshit for one day.” She hated feeling so off-kilter. “You drink it.”

“A palate cleanser then,” Librada decided and gestured somewhere behind Elena instead.

A moment later, Noor was at her side. Gorgeous by any definition, she moved like silk when she slid her arm around Elena’s waist. Reflexively, Elena gripped her hip and relished the sensation of Noor’s body molded to hers.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Librada’s smug expression before allowing herself to be led to a dark, unoccupied corner of the lounge.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you tonight,” Noor said when they approached a chaise away from the noise of conversation.

Elena sat, but stopped Noor before she could nestle in her lap. “Pull up your dress,” she demanded, tone low. The spike of arousal hit Noor instantly, altering her body chemistry in a way Elena could sense. The quickening of Noor’s pulse, the faint shift in her scent—warm, heady, and unmistakable. No scent was more intoxicating than arousal, though terror came close.

Glancing over her shoulder, Noor hesitated. Any performed shyness was an act, Elena knew. The thundering in Noor’s chest was deafening. There wasn’t a trace of anxiety flowing from her.

Noor brought her attention back to Elena before tossing her long hair to one side. Instead of leaning back and waiting for Noor to drape herself over her, Elena lunged forward. She pulled Noor’s leg up, propping her foot on the sofa, the seam of her dress ripping under the strain of her parting thighs. Noor’s punishment for her delay.

“Fuck,” Noor groaned, hand in Elena’s hair and urging her in.

Shadows draped around them like a velvet curtain when Elena sank her fangs into the sensitive flesh of Noor’s inner thigh. An evolutionary trait vampires didn’t need now that they invariably fed behind closed doors, but their surroundings were cloaked in shadow as soon as Elena bit. The bite was a delicate invasion, precise and controlled. A world away from the violence her fangs could unleash.

Blood, hot and sweet against Elena’s mouth, was a symphony of surrender, each pulsing wave echoing the desire tumbling from Noor’s pretty lips. Savoring the warmth that spread through her, the life that sparked on her tongue, Elena relaxed.

This wasn’t the frenzied drain of a kill, but a slow, intimate dance of need and fulfillment. Each delicate draw was a promise whispered against Noor’s skin. One Elena didn’t plan to keep.

Noor pulled her closer, tempting her to have more than she should. “Take me upstairs,” she begged. “Please.”

For a moment, Elena considered it. Palms gliding up the side of her thighs, she drank deeper when Noor trembled at her touch. But Elena stopped herself before indulging. Pulling away instead of slipping her fingers in through the side of Noor’s silky underwear.

The darkness that had concealed them fell away the moment Elena released her tortured skin and leaned back, full but not satisfied.

“Not tonight,” she decided, wiping the blood from around her mouth instead of allowing Noor to lick it off.

With a nod, she signaled to Librada that she’d finished. A moment later, Lib was ushering away a disappointed Noor so she could tend to her puncture wounds. Elena decided she was in a weird fucking mood and got up.

She shouldn’t have seen Zuri, she decided, and headed for the door. It hadn’t been long enough. Maybe it would never be long enough. The combination of Zuri’s last kiss and Catalina’s first had reminded her of all the things she’d lost. She was tired of missing. Tired of aching. Tired of love slipping through her fingers.

“Elena, hang on.” Robert, in his ridiculous cotton swab outfit, appeared at her side before her hand was on the doorknob. “Lib is with your blood bag and Felix took Sofia and the dogs back to?—”

“I don’t need an escort. I’m going home,” Elena snapped despite her amusement at Robert’s open concern. “Despite what you might think, my pretty face isn’t what made me who I am.” She patted his cheek. “Tell them I went home.”

Robert shook his head. “If I let you leave by yourself, Lib and Sofia will arm wrestle for the privilege of stringing me up by the balls.”

Elena chuckled despite the horrific mental picture. Before she could tell him to fuck off in no uncertain terms, Robert was calling over Lance and Jesus.

“Oh, boss duty!” Lance wiggled his eyebrows—or where eyebrows would be if he didn’t shave them off.

“Did Lib say it was okay?” Jesus asked when he joined them.

“Have you all forgotten that I’m the bitch in charge here?” Elena feigned offense. “If you insist on this production to travel a few yards to my car, let’s get it moving.”

“I’ll get Olivia,” Jesus said before flinging open the door and letting in the crush of noise from the human bar. One of Elena’s many fronts, but by far the noisiest.