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“Crap,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Got sidetracked. Forgot to slake. And then I was in a hurry picking you up, so I forgot again. Just ran to my car and started driving.”

Leslie’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Her body was entirely still. She whispered, “How many hours?”

He fought to clear his head, but the thirst was attacking him now. “Uh. Twenty-eight.”

“It’s an hour back to your house.”

“Uh-huh.” He tried to swallow, work the muscles that were seizing in the back of his throat, and the ache sharpened.

“Isn’t it at least that far to your parents?”

“Hour and twenty minutes.”

“Can you make it another hour without blood?”

“I won’t shrivel to dust.” But he was growing hoarse already, and his throat was at leasttryingto close up and kill him.

“Blood bar,” she said. “Is there one between here and your house?”

He nodded.

“Oh good. Stop there then.”

She’d introduced him to diner breakfasts; he’d wanted to introduce her to the blood bar. He hissed.

“Do you need me to drive?”

“No. I just didn’t want…this. An emergency. Not how I wanted to show you one of my official tour stops.”

“I think that’s way down the priority list at this point. Let’s just get you what you need, okay?”

He clamped his lips and gritted his teeth.

“Are we close?” Leslie said.

He nodded and held up one hand, fingers splayed.

“Five minutes?”

Another nod.

“Your eyes are full silver. Are your fangs down?”

“No,” he snapped.

“Okay. Just checking.”

“I’m fine.” Other than sounding like a human with laryngitis. “I’ve never— That’s never happened to me.”

“Me either, but it happened to my dad once. Story for another time.”

How could she be so blasé about something so humiliating? He shook his head, but of course his mind didn’t clear. Wouldn’t clear until his need for blood had been dealt with.

This was absolutelynothow the evening was supposed to go.