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“I can kick my friends out early. Hey, I can text them all right now and tell them to stay away, you’ll meet them some other time.”

She gave his shoulder a mock shove. “Not a chance. Iwantto meet them.”

“And tonight’s too soon,” he said.

“Not exactly. But I…I want it to be momentous. Let’s choose the day, not fall into it. Let’s mark a beautiful day with a beautiful night.”

“What if tomorrow is a beautiful day?” He waggled his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. The tasting bond is sacred between vampires. We have to treat it as sacred.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah.” Once again, his girlfriend was being wise. “Okay. I want to do this the best way possible. So…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…yeah, let’s build a plan.” Then he smirked. “See? Still thinking.”

Twenty-Five

Ryker’s friends all arrived within ten minutes of each other, and for those first minutes, Leslie put all her effort into meeting and greeting. Five people in ten minutes stretched her social capacity, but she’d had busier days at the art fair at home. She could certainly handle getting to know five people at once if they were Ryker’s closest people.

First came the twins, Nova and Logan Anderson. They looked as identical as fraternal twins possibly could. Their teal eyes were like the lagoon water Leslie had admired in Florida. Their faces were spattered with freckles that, combined with their corn-silk-blond hair, made them look somehow more mythical fae than real vampire. Nova’s hair was cropped into a pixie cut, while Logan’s trailed in a ponytail a few inches past his neck. They were friendly, outgoing, funny and articulate. They finished each other’s sentences in a way Leslie had thought was only a twin legend.

Philippa Gill followed them a few minutes later. Of medium complexion, with heavily highlighted brown hair and strikingly pale lavender eyes, she exuded a soothing energy that balancedthe exuberance of the twins. She clasped Leslie’s hands in greeting, and something passed between them, as if Philippa had absorbed Leslie’s mood into herself and read all the way to her heart.

“What…?” Leslie couldn’t find her words, could onlyfeela sense of being wholly seen.

“Oh!” Philippa released her hands. “Vampire empath, honey. Sorry to be a lot.”

“No, it’s okay, really.”

“I don’t usually touch new people until I’ve gotten to know them, but with you I forgot. You’ve made Ryker so happy.”

Leslie could have asked her a dozen questions, but before she had the chance, another vampire stepped into the house.

Ryker nodded from the newcomer to Leslie. “Mackey, this is Leslie. Leslie, meet Thomas Beckett Mackey, who refuses to answer to anything but his surname.”

Mackey gave a low hum of confirmation. He was starkly pale like the twins, his hair a rich mahogany-brown, his eyes a deep, dark blue that seemed black in the light of Ryker’s den. His expression was so reserved, even a vampire would have difficulty reading it. But an intense intrigue crackled underneath. He studied Leslie with force until she broke eye contact first.

“Hey,” Ryker said. “Chill, Mac.”

Mackey blinked, nodded, and held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Leslie.”

Grasping his hand didn’t result in any connection like the one she’d shared with Philippa. Mackey wasn’t a vampire empath. Yet his handshake seemed to offer her something more, because everyone in the room went still.

“Whoa,” Logan said. “Mac the Key has given his approval.”

Nova clapped. “Welcome, Leslie.”

Leslie laughed, somehow not feeling awkward at all. “Mac the Key? As in Key to welcoming doors?”

“Gatekeeper, more like,” Logan said. “He’s more guarded than the rest of us put together.”

They were all so different, yet they interacted with the genuine ease of years of friendship. Now Leslie hadmorequestions. How long had it taken them to collect each other?

Just then the last car parked in the street, and Claire came in carrying a cooler full of blood bags. Leslie hardly knew what to say at the sight—and the scent—of it.

“To celebrate Leslie,” Claire said, and while the rest of them cheered, Ryker went to a kitchen cupboard and brought down wine glasses for all.

Was this okay? Indulging in a second slaking without the excuse of a hard workout or a dire injury? Maybe she should abstain, but that might offend Claire.

Ryker set the glasses out, then went to her and leaned down to whisper against her ear. “Perfectly safe. I promise.”