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Keeping a mask on at all times required a lot of work, and it got old pretty fast.

I’d know.

Giggling, I answered, “Yeah, and it sounds like we’re full-blown winging it. We’re literally going to just stroll right up to the club? Doesn’t seem like you at all.”

“I’m simply going to ask to speak to whoever is in charge.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’m going to tell them who you are.”

I stopped walking for a beat before rushing to catch up with Ilsa as she continued her long strides, every other stride hitching as her leg got the better of her. Her lip would twitch in irritation, but she wouldn’t slow down, making no leeway for herself.

She walked with such purpose with those camo pants and heavy boots. It was sexy as fuck.

“You’re going to turn me in?” I asked, coming up next to her.

As she stopped, I had to come back a few steps after realizing she was no longer walking next to me.

“They know who you are, Ray. They’re going to recognize you anyway,” she said, a hand on her hip.

Then her expression fell.

The words hit her at the same time they did me—it was written all over her face.

“So…” I said, licking my lips, “… we could be walking straight into a death trap? The club could be less of a source of information and more the exact place we shouldn’t be going.”

Ilsa stared at me. I could almost see her mind working. Like this was something which hadn’t occurred to her, and honestly, up until this moment, it hadn’t crossed my mind either. I was so invested inherthat I hadn’t thought much about the situation itself. Ilsa was looking at me with something that resembled accusation, as though she blamed me for her not thinking straight. Planning was her thing, not mine. I followed her, assuming she knew what she was doing.

Maybe I scrambled her brain with that orgasm last night.

“Shit,” Ilsa muttered before leaning against the wall of a nearby building and shoving her hands in her pockets, falling into thought. I wanted to say something, anything to contribute, but all that crossed my mind were images of breaking the front door down and roundhouse kicking me some bad guys. So I said nothing. Occasionally, Ilsa would cast me another look, suggesting this was my fault, then press her lips together as her train of thought moved on.

As though I was to blame for her lapse in judgment.

Maybe I was.

After a while, Ilsa’s eyes raked my body, and I’m not sure the look was entirely innocent. There was a pause, and then she was staring straight at me again, but her eyes had shifted out of focus. I took this to mean she was formulating a plan and decided to let her do whatever.

The silence was killing me. I wished she’d say something.

I only wanted this over with because being shot at with silver bullets had disrupted my fun.

Although being with Ilsa had opened up a new world of entertainment, and maybe I didn’t want that part to be over just yet.

“Can you change your appearance?” she asked me abruptly.

“Na, my human form is what it is. I can’t change it. I can turn into a bat, though.”

“Really?

I snorted. “No.”

She didn’t laugh.

Ilsa started gnawing on her bottom lip, and I tried to maintain my concentration on the situation at hand rather than her lips. Being with Ilsa the night before had served only to stir up my demon rather than satiate it, and with every passing moment—especially in the silence where I was left alone with my thoughts—it was clawing harder against me, straining to get out and take her again. Controlling my demon had been more difficult to maintain as the days stretched on than I had anticipated. Demons lived here for decades, so how did they do it? I’d need an outlet soon. Something, anything to take my mind off the woman in front of me. Because as it were, I’d either need to take her right here in the street or unleash some sort of bloodlust.

I know which I preferred, but I didn’t think Ilsa would appreciate the public display.