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Her green eyes blaze. “Absolutely not. If you think you’re leaving here without letting me—”

When she reaches for my zipper again, I catch her hand before she can touch me.

“Blair,” she protests. It comes out in a whine that makes an answering growl threaten in the back of my throat.

“Not tonight.” I lean over and kiss a path up her spine, stopping to bite lightly at her shoulder.

She lets out an exasperated breath and glares at me.

Rolling off the bed, I pick up my jacket and shrug it back on. Kenna grabs the blanket next to her and pulls it over her body as she sits up.

A shame, that. But seeing her fully is just one more pleasure that can wait for now.

“Good night, ember,” I tell her, and her grumbled curses follow me all the way out her door.

18

Kenna

The walk of shame is too real the next morning.

I’m the last one of my roommates awake on this fine Sunday, and when I come slinking into the kitchen drawn by the scent of Bruno’s award-worthy French toast, a round of applause breaks out.

“Bravo,” Wes calls from his seat at the kitchen table.

There’s an unfamiliar man with a vivid vampire bite on his throat sitting next to Wes. He seems a bit confused, but claps along like a good sport.

“Stop,” I moan, sinking down into an empty chair and immediately grabbing a plate.

From where she’s standing next to Bruno at the stove, Fran props a hip against the counter and grins at me. “Have fun last night?”

I stuff a bite of French toast into my mouth so I don’t have to answer her.

Unfortunately, Bruno takes that as his cue to chime in. “If the sounds I heard coming from your room—”

“Stop,” I say again, swallowing and reaching for a cup of coffee. “Does this belong to anyone?”

“That would be mine,” Lexa says, plucking it from my hand. “And for real, Kenna. I saw your man leaving last night, and damn.”

“Not my man,” I protest, standing up to get my own cup of coffee.

Fran reaches around Bruno to grab a creamer and tosses it my way. “Shifter, then? Or demon?”

“He’s not a vampire,” Wes says. “I would have been able to smell that.”

“No sniffing house guests,” I mutter, sitting back down with my coffee.

“Whatever he is, he was hot as fucking hell.” Lexa lets out a dreamy sigh. “And older? What is he, like forty?”

More like five hundred.That was one detail Nora let slip about him, but I’m not about to share that with everyone and give them any more information than they’re already inferring on their own.

I drop my forehead to the tabletop. “Enough.”

Someone slides into the chair next to me. I tilt my head to look and find Fran studying me with a little crease of concern between her brows.

“We can tone it down,” she says, glancing around at the band of heathens I call roommates. “Is everything okay?”

Sighing, I sit up. “Everything’s fine. Just dealing with the consequences of my own idiocy.”